


You Can (Not) Connect

by devilbabycryman



Series: You Can (Not) Connect [1]
Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion, Rebuild of Evangelion | Evangelion: New Theatrical Edition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, no eva fighting basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilbabycryman/pseuds/devilbabycryman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the closest thing to a happy life that I could imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Can (Not) Connect

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Suicide Pact](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516336) by [Otaku67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otaku67/pseuds/Otaku67). 



> "modern" au with normal Shinji (minus eva and angel battles) who's had a hard tuff life and deals with the resultant mental health issues. i seem to only be able to write Shinji from first person pov because he's Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinji develops and struggles with his loneliness, but meets someone who helps him forget it for a little while.

When you’re a kid, you don’t really keep track of time at all. Moments just come and go, and you take everything at face value. Whatever exists in the current moment is how it is and how it’s always going to be. Most kids don’t learn that this is the farthest thing from true until much later in their life. Early twenties, even thirties maybe.

I have always been something of an early bloomer. I came to in contact with this truth pretty early, around four years old--when my mom died. From what I knew then, she was there one day and gone the next. I couldn't figure it out at first, and only wondered why she didn’t say goodbye before she left. I couldn’t comprehend the fact that she wouldn’t be coming back, or read the hints in my father’s face as it hardened into a frown that probably still hasn't left. I didn't get why he told me to put all of my clothes and toys in a bag and brought me to his coworker's house one day. Her name was Ms. Misato, and she had always been really nice to me so I thought it might be fun. She looked confused and mad when my dad and I got there, and they yelled at each other for a long time. Maybe a few hours? It felt like that long, but I was playing with her pet penguin, so I didn't pay attention.

When my father finally left after that argument they had, he never came back.

I immediately started to cry because he left looking really unhappy. I wanted to know if he was going to where my mom was, and why no one was letting me go along. Misato just frowned too and told me kids weren't allowed to go where they were, and that I would have to stay with her for awhile. That made me even more sad, and I asked how long they'd be gone. She said she didn't know, and I cried louder. I asked her why over and over again until she screamed at me to stop.

I didn’t cry about it anymore after that (at least not in front of her), and as I grew older it became easier to understand.

After a few years I didn’t miss my father very much. Misato didn’t talk about him much, and when she did she only complained. She made sure to tell me every time that she "wasn’t trying to make me hate him." She was "just frustrated" and saying things she didn't mean. I was too old for lies like that at the time, but I let her tell them. As if she needed to convince me to hate my father in the first place. It would have taken too much energy to tell her that I didn't believe her, or that my father gave me plenty enough reasons to hate him on his own. I didn't feel like explaining, or dealing with her horrified face as she told me not to say things like that. I used to make the mistake of trying to explain myself with everything I said, or offer my opinion on things to connect with people or help them understand me. No one ever listened, really, and I've always been pretty bad at explaining myself. I was always either interrupted, chastised, or completely ignored, and to protect my feelings I just avoided it altogether.

Not being able to connect with anyone on even a shallow level got pretty lonely after awhile. Still, I was able to take the little pains from loneliness and push them down for the most part; at least so I didn’t talk about it anymore. Every once in awhile it popped up in my head, and it would deaden my mind and spirit a little. Sometimes I'd just let it linger until it threatened to escape, and just repress it then. With enough battery life in my cassette player or a long, long nap I could suppress just about anything. I could grin and bear _anything_ , and did it for years. If I hadn't indulged that deep dark lonely feeling a bit more than was healthy, I could have probably grinned and bore my entire life well into adulthood.

But anything under pressure explodes at some point. I exploded at age thirteen, when I stood up one day in class and started screaming. I remember picking up my desk to toss across the room because it just felt like the thing to do at the time, and I felt as if I would break if I didn't throw something. The teacher stopped me in time, though, and almost carried me to the office. I had more outbursts after that, frequent but lower in intensity. Mostly crying fits, and mostly when I was alone. Whenever it happened at school I was sent to the guidance counselor, which only seemed to make it all feel worse. He was one of those "cheer up after this completely unrelated story I'm about to tell you" people, and it was really all I could bear to be suffocated by his easygoing positivity every other day. I told him whatever I could to get out of it, since I knew he couldn’t help me. I learned to adapt; to excuse myself to the bathroom until it passed, or scribble quietly on my notes until the entire page was covered in black ink. Whatever I needed to do to avoid drawing attention, but release that pressure even if just a tiny bit.

I noticed I wasn't the only one in class who seemed to struggle with this sort of feeling (this loneliness, as I called it, because that is a simple way to describe this complex mesh of feelings). There was a girl who was very quiet, and she always missed a lot of days of school. Whenever she did come back to class, I noticed scabs on her wrists and arms that looked mostly like cat scratches. Sometimes they were hastily bandaged up, and other times they were completely out in the open, as if she were too tired to try and hide them. She stayed out of the way, like I did, and seemed to do everything she could to keep people from approaching her at all. She spoke softly and hardly looked at people who spoke to her, unless it was to stare unblinkingly and uncomfortably into their eyes. Sometimes she would just walk away in the middle of a conversation, and I admired that for some reason. I noticed her over everyone else because her face seemed weighted with the same deep pain that I tried to hold in. She seemed to hurt in many of the same ways I did, but that was as far as our connection went. I never spoke to her myself unless I had to for a group assignment, and never had the courage to offer a comforting word. Hearing people whisper about her like she didn't know made me feel sorry for her, and something in me wanted to protect her. It was the only time I felt the urge to protect another person, but I did nothing.

Eventually she stopped coming to school altogether.

I felt guilty for not trying to be her friend, but I doubt she would have wanted that. Or maybe that was all she wanted, just not with people who made fun of her behind her back and pretended to be nice to her face. I thought about her cuts, which I knew weren't cat scratches. I had heard of people doing that before and had even tried it a few times myself, but it was a lot more difficult than they made it seem. It isn't easy to hurt yourself that way, but sometimes I wanted to so badly I would just hit my head, or pinch myself so hard it broke the skin. No one noticed, and the bruises were easy to hide.

This was me at my most normal. To drift through the school day, not talking to anyone and eating by myself at lunch was my default. I would go home and cook dinner for Misato and myself, since she had usually started drinking by that time and wasn’t good for anything but heating up instant meals. I would bring my dinner to my room and eat in front of the computer for hours, until pure exhaustion wrestled me to sleep. I might find myself absently clawing at my skin while I stared at the glowing screen, which was all the light I allowed in the room because it was more relaxing that way.

This was just life to me, and I saw no reason to change at all. I had no hope for anything better, and was content when nothing worse happened, which it didn't for a very long time. I wasn't prepared for any changes that might come, and I suppose that's my fault. Another important life lesson to remember is that nothing ever stays the same, as I would come to learn rather abruptly, again.

It happened late one evening while I was at home in front of the computer, slurping soup without thinking much. I was watching random videos to have some sound in the room and something to stare at. When each one ended, I'd glance over the comments section and click to the next one. Usually the comments were stupid criticisms or someone spouting a meme that had nothing to do with anything else on the page. I don't know why I read them, since they were never anything interesting, but I was on auto pilot. I paid just enough attention to see the words without thinking too deeply into what they meant. Occasionally I would run across one that made me give pause, and it was in one of those comments where I found the link.

It was submitted by an anonymous user, which wasn’t at all uncommon. It simply read, “I’m tired today. Are you tired too? Click here if you want to talk about it.” followed by a link that I didn’t recognize. I usually didn’t click things like that, and couldn’t think of any logical reason to do so then, but I couldn't deny I was curious. It seemed too well worded for spam, and it didn't really advertise any free money or too-good-to-be-true clickbait. I justified that I had a pretty good anti-virus program on my computer, so it couldn't hurt just to peek.

I clicked the link and new tab opened up, with nothing but a black screen. After a few seconds of nothing, a buffering icon showed up, followed by the words “ _Good Night._ ” Then it redirected to a forum with the same header. The page seemed plain enough; no fancy graphics or pictures, black and white theme and nothing but a list of different forum threads. There were no categories or tags, it all just seemed to be different threads that shared a common topic. After browsing several of them I was able to discern pretty quickly what that topic was.

It was a Suicide Club. Mostly the stuff of urban myths, where people went into deep detail about and even shared methods on how to successfully commit suicide. I had read a news article of one site that hosted videos of people killing themselves, and it was only shut down after the police found evidence of someone killing someone else. This place didn't seem as hardcore as that, but it was still undeniably in the same vein. I was surprised the link was so blatantly out there and easy to find. Out of curiosity I clicked back to the video page where it was posted. The page automatically refreshed when I did that, and where the comment previously was, a flag report was posted. It had only happened seconds ago, so one of the admins must have found it pretty quickly. 

I went back to the site and decided to give the posts a closer look, to satisfy a morbid curiosity. A lot of them read like journal entries, where people would just write out how they felt or what was bothering them. Some people simply wrote out their suicide notes for others to comment on, others talked about why they wanted to die and the things that were going wrong in their life. There was a lot of solidarity, and the interaction seemed oddly enthusiastic and encouraging considering what the topics were. I read each of these posts and found that I could relate to them all, whether the actual thoughts or the feelings associated.

Until that point, I hadn’t actually given much thought to suicide, or even dying in general. I knew that I wanted to "get out of" my life in some way, but figured I would just have to suffer through it because that’s what I deserved. Suicide was a pretty common topic, but the thought of trying it had always scared me. There were many ways to die, and a vast portion of them seemed too painful or too likely to fail with consequences if I survived. If I were to die, I would want it to be silent and comfortable, like going to sleep without having to wake up again. Silently I hoped, every night before falling asleep, that it would be the last. If nothing else, looking at this site dispelled any feeling I may have had of being alone in this. There was something comforting about reading other people's troubles and seeing how they were met with welcoming and encouraging responses.

I entertained the notion of making a post of my own for a few minutes, and in my excitement clicked the “Sign Up” link at the top of the page. I entered my information, thankful that it only asked for an E-mail Address, Desired Username and Password. I thought for a long time about potential usernames, almost putting my own name for simplicity's sake. I cycled through a number of simple options that just didn't quite feel right, probably agonizing over it for a bit too long. After much deliberation, I settled on the name “yui”.

I bypassed the profile customization and all of that (because there was nothing I was interested in putting there anyway) and clicked on the “New Post” link, letting my hands hover over the keyboard while I stared at the blank page.

I had thousands of things to say and they all whirled through my head, formless and faster than I could pinpoint them. Everything that came to mind sounded stupid to me, or too vague, or histrionic as of I were trying too hard. I of course wanted it to sound good, but also plainly and honestly express my feelings.

The last bit of that thought seemed to raise another question, though; how exactly _did_ I feel? Lonely was one way to describe it, obviously. So was numb. Sad, maybe. Frustrated. Hurt. Worthless. Exhausted. There were so many words I could use, and probably even more that I didn’t know or couldn’t think of. After almost ten minutes of anxiously typing and deleting, I gave up on it altogether. There was no pressure to post anything really, and I was more contented just to read posts that other people had made, as any and everything I felt was reflected in some way or another through other's words. I kept my account for the purpose of bookmarking posts that I liked, but never commented or interacted with any of them beyond that.

* * *

  
It didn’t take long for me to add browsing that website to my usual routine. I actually looked forward to going home after school specifically to do that. I grew so impatient at times that I had taken to heating up instant meals because cooking took too long sometimes. 

I ran up to my room and made sure to close and lock the door before settling in front of my computer to browse the latest posts. I would stay up until the wee hours of the morning, too enthralled with the stories and discussions I read to even think of sleep. I was always tired at school the next day, but that wasn’t anything new, and it didn't make much difference to me.

There were a few regulars I had begun to follow, and always checked for new posts from them. One person called Maromi had been fired from their job but they were secretly glad, because the workload was inching them toward a mental breakdown. Anno-san complained that his book deadlines kept changing and he had to rush his work, which made his fans hate him. He felt empty and useless as he had given up on salary-work and was struggling to pursue his dream of being an author, but the death threats acted as amplifiers to his own insecurities, according to his words.  The most interesting of the bunch was a post by Sangul, who had finally been approved for a gun license after “passing the psychological evaluation (lol)”. They bid a warm and heartfelt goodbye to their more faithful readers. I felt an odd mixture of happiness and jealousy for them, as I feel we had become distant friends even though we never spoke.

I read through the comments on Sangul's post in lieu of writing one, because I didn’t feel like agonizing over what to say. There were the usual, “Good luck!”s and “I’m so jealous uwu”’s that punctuated every farewell post made on this site. Nothing too interesting for the most part, until I scrolled to an imposing wall of text at least three paragraphs long.

The length of that comment alone was strange, since most were no longer than a sentence or two. It lacked the usual obnoxious quirks or broken punctuation, and seemed more like a carefully written speech than just random, pointless chiming in.

I read through each word, growing more and more interested in whoever wrote it as I did so. It was effortlessly poetic, and posed curious questions about life and death, motivations to act versus thoughts about the action, and many other things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. It veered a bit away from the original post, but was related enough that it seemed more like this person was trying to start a discussion, adding their own thoughts and opinions while commending Sangul’s “courage” and “determination”.

The curtain of words was hemmed with a sad and simple, “Good night. I love you.” and I was struck by that phrase. I could have swooned, and I glanced back up to the top of the post to catch the name, “Tabris”. They had no picture to their account, but immediately my mind conjured up the image of a gentle and lovely face. I don't know why that was my initial reaction to it, since in the context "I love you" was a really weird thing to say, but somehow I found it romantic.

I clicked through to their profile and saw many more of those long, well-thought posts dated over a span of what seemed to be at least a few years. Each one broached a different topic and was focused more on abstract concepts than Tabris' own life and experiences. I was fascinated and drawn in by the tagline on their page, which also happened to end each and every post they made, consisting of that simple, “I love you all.” Before I knew it, the light of dawn crept through my window and my alarm clock went off.

Tabris’ posts and mysterious replies to other people lingered on my mind long after I had left my computer to drift through school the next day.

They often spoke of “the power of choice” and "the gift of free will”; how even though it had been given to us by some divinity or developed through evolution, as a society we tried to squash and limit that gift as much as possible. Through customs and social standards, we kept each other in check, and told each other what was and wasn’t okay to say and think. Tabris believed this was why we were all so sad, and often discussed alternatives to this mode of operating.

I almost walked out in the middle of class that day, just because I knew I had the choice to do so. I didn’t, of course, because I didn’t want to be sent to the guidance counselor again or have them call Misato and listen to her haphazard attempts at parenting later on. Those were the consequences to making that choice, and the things that kept me in line. Instead of being a rebel, I filled my head with philosophies from Tabris at night, and pondered those philosophies during the day. This went on for weeks until I finally reached their very last post.

I wasn’t sure what to do once I had finished reading them all. I couldn’t go back to reading anyone else’s, because they all seemed so shallow after all I had absorbed over the past few weeks. I had added almost every one of Tabris' posts to my favorites, and contemplated just cycling through them again.

When I refreshed the page to do so, I noticed a little mail icon that hadn’t caught my attention before. There was a bright red number "1" situated on the icon, blinking slowly as if to catch my attention. I had never received any kind of message before and figured it might be spam or something, but I clicked on it anyway. In one clean, conspicuous line across the screen, I read: “New Message from user Tabris! Subject: Hello, Yui.”

I panicked, and immediately my thoughts raced. Why on earth would Tabris message me? I hadn’t made any posts or comments at all, and my profile was completely blank with nothing special to set it apart from anyone else’s. Maybe they had noticed me lurking through their work and bookmarking every post, and I suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed. I didn’t stop to think that it probably sent a notification every time I favorited something, and I silently chastised myself for not thinking that through.

Still, here was this message, and it was staring at me, and however scared or nervous I was then, I clicked on the message anyway. It opened up, filling my screen with words so short and simple compared to what I was used to reading that I wondered if they had even come from the same person:

“Hello, Yui. I noticed that you had started following me recently and wanted to say that I am glad you like my writing so much. I see that your profile is blank, and there are no comments in your history. I must admit I am curious. What brings you to a site like this? If you do not feel inclined to tell me that, then I can be a bit more selfish and ask you what about my posts attracts you to them? I would greatly enjoy a discussion about anything you found interesting, and look forward very much to hearing your opinions. I hope to hear from you soon. I love you. -Tabris”

My face was washed over hot and I re-read the message several times, refusing to believe that it was real. Nobody had addressed me so directly in a very long time, much less asked me to actually share my opinion on anything. I figured there must be a catch; this intelligent and maybe even beautiful person wasn't what they seemed to be. They were likely some greasy middle-aged homebody from halfway across the world who was just trying to mess with me. Maybe they were some kind of weirdly intelligent pervert that reached out to potential victims.

And even if they weren’t, even if they were my age and a genuinely nice person who I could be friends with, I would message them back and it would go terribly. I would type out my opinion and it would be too wordy or eager or desperate and that would turn them off and they’d never message me again. I came up with a multitude of reasons as to why I shouldn’t reply, and eventually my anxieties beat me into closing the tab.

For the first time in weeks, I turned off the computer and went to sleep at a decent hour, in an effort to still my thoughts.

Tabris didn’t make any posts for a long time after that. I checked everyday, spending more of my time refreshing their page than doing anything else, but nothing new came up. Occasionally I would glance up at my inbox and click through to read the message again, scanning it for some kind of red flag that would indicate it really _was_ too good to be true.

Eventually it occurred to me that perhaps I was wrong. Maybe Tabris really was just genuinely interested in what I had to say. After all, they seemed to be incredibly thoughtful and had always engaged other users in public conversation over comment threads, so it didn’t seem too unlikely that they would want to do the same with me.

After a long time of putting it off, I finally swallowed my fear and clicked on the “Reply” button, staring at the empty response box for a moment to gather my thoughts before writing:

“Hello, Tabris. I’m sorry for the late reply. I didn’t have a chance to read your message until today,” I felt guilty about such a blatant lie, but figured it was better to use an excuse like that than tell them I had spent the last few days agonizing. “I really do enjoy the things that you write. They make me think, and I guess the most interesting thing I came across was your dissertation,”--I had to use an online thesaurus for that one--“on the gift of free will and the power of choice. I had never considered just how strong that power was, and I feel like it is the reason I struggle so much in my daily life. I am always faced with choices that I do not like, or options that I am too afraid to take because I don’t want to be disruptive or a burden. That weighs on me constantly, causing me to stifle my feelings and not express myself at all the way I want to. I admire your thoughts on the subject, and even if I might not be capable of acting on it, I agree with everything you said.”

Once I was done, I felt more relieved for some reason. Without meaning to, I had touched on some honest feelings never revealed to anyone, and hadn't fully realized myself. I hit “Send” feeling vaguely satisfied with what I had written. When I saw the text posted, and how much longer it looked than what I had expected, that relief instantly vanished. I started to panic again.

 _Oh god I wrote too much they’re not going to want to read all of that why didn’t I read through it first I’m so stupid oh god how do I take this back._ My brain went into overdrive and my eyes were rapidly scanning the page for any kind of “Delete” button, even though I knew it was too late and that it was probably already sitting in Tabris’ inbox. I clutched at my face and groaned, blindly clicking away to another page so I didn’t have to look at it anymore.

I was not allowed the comfort of forgetting it so quickly; almost the second the new page had loaded, I noticed another message alert hovering over my inbox.

 _They replied that quickly? They’re online right now!?_  Even as I thought this to myself, I was already predicting their response in my head: knowing they would call me desperate or weird and criticize my every word or tell me to leave them alone. In spite of myself, I clicked on the message and read through it, even if only just to prove myself right.

“Thank you so much. I’m happy you replied at all. Honestly, my posts are little more than unfiltered thoughts. They are just things that pass through my mind throughout the day that I tend to muse over quite often. It’s nice to know they inspired some thought in you, and that we feel similarly on the matter. I am surprised to hear it, actually. I, too, used to struggle with accepting that gift of choice that we all have for the same reasons. I would love to continue this conversation with you, if you are interested, in a more convenient way. Do you have an instant messenger? -Tabris”

Not only had they replied incredibly quickly (without any concern for how eager that may have seemed), but they wanted to continue the conversation with me, based on what I had replied. At this point I was beside myself. They actually liked my thoughts and wanted to hear more. I was brimming with excitement and flattery. I didn’t have any instant messenger, but hurried to download the most popular one I could think of and create an account with the same screen name, just for the purpose of speaking to them. I messaged Tabris back with my screen name and bit my nails with anticipation once the reply was sent. I probably should have been more cautious about it, maybe even a bit suspicious that they were so eager to talk to me. I was just so beside myself that I could hardly think straight, and satisfied my fears with the thought that I could just block them or delete the messenger at any time if they turned out to be the creep that I feared.

Within only a few minutes, the messenger chimed in the corner of my screen and I clicked on it to accept Tabris’ request. I had never used an instant messenger before, but it was pretty easy to get the hang of. When the computer chimed at me, and I clicked on the chat window to see Tabris had sent a simple “Hello, Yui”, my heart was aflutter.

We immediately delved into conversation, as promised. It was a bit stilted at first because I was holding back, but Tabris prodded gently almost as if to make sure there was never a lull in the conversation. Whenever I couldn’t think of a reply, or clearly hesitated by typing and deleting over and over again, they posed a question and asked my opinion to help launch us into discussion.

We went on talking for so long that by the time they bid me farewell and said they had to go to sleep, I looked at the clock and noticed it was five in the morning. I wasn’t tired at all, and really didn’t want the conversation to end, but replied that I was tired as well and would be off to bed. I waited until they said goodbye first, almost holding my breath as the messenger placidly faded the words  _Tabris is typing..._ in and out.

"Thank you for having this conversation with me, Yui." They sent, after what felt like forever but was probably only a few seconds.

"I feel like I should be thanking you, I loved it." I typed out at first, then meditated over it and deleted it. I sent, instead, "No problem. It was a nice conversation."

"May I look forward to speaking with you again tomorrow?"

"Of cours--" Reconsider, delete. "Sure. I'll be on when I get home, probably." Not too desperate.

"I will wait for you then. Good night, Yui. And thank you, again."

With that, they signed off, and it felt like only then I could actually exhale. Even after Tabris was offline, I read over the last bit of the conversation, especially to scrutinize my part and ensure that I had come off suitably aloof. I think I had done a fairly good job, and Tabris didn't seem offput by me yet, so I took that as a good sign. If nothing else, despite how cool and collected I tried to be, they seemed genuinely interested and eager to continue talking to me. I wasn't sure what to think about that, despite how wonderful it made me feel. I told myself that it would wear off the moment they grew weary of trying to keep up conversation with me. Until then, though, there was no harm in enjoying a few conversations.

When I laid myself down, I found that I couldn't fall asleep. My mind was still reeling with the conversation, and I found myself wishing that tomorrow would be over just so I could talk to Tabris again. My cheeks ached as I curled up into my covers, and I realized in that moment that I had been smiling the entire time.


	2. A Face and A Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several times, I had wondered what he looked like, and if I had the courage I would have asked him for a picture ages ago.

Another few weeks had passed, and Tabris and I were growing closer. We talked less about esoteric things and their posts in the Suicide Club, and more about each other.

To my surprise, he (for I learned that they were a boy) revealed a lot of personal information to me, much of which I wouldn't have asked for. He also lived in Japan (in what he described as a "loving little mountain town away from major cities"), though on his own, which was strange since he was only a year older than me. Without my having to ask why, he told me that when he turned twelve, his parents no longer wanted him at home. I felt did not press him for more when he didn't explain the reason behind something so sensitive. He told me after that, he quit school and had been working to take care of himself since.

I was amazed and saddened all the same by his story; he wasn't even of age but had suffered through so much. His struggles made my own pains and worries seem pathetic, which in turn made me even less willing to tell him anything about my circumstances. He asked me about them quite a few times, and I am sure he was genuinely curious, but I was always too embarrassed to answer. When he could not get me to share my problems, he turned to asking about my opinion on things, which I was hesitant to give at first for fear of sounding stupid, even then. His constant feedback and interest made me more open, and I grew comfortable having real conversations with him even in spite of myself.

One day, he tried to call me using the video chat feature of the messenger, which I didn’t know existed. I was terrified that if he saw me, he would be underwhelmed by my appearance and lose interest. I'm not entirely sure why I thought he would care what I looked like, or even be attracted to me in the first place, but I didnt give myself time to think about that. It made complete and total sense to me that since he hadn't lost interest in my words, he would definitely lose interest in me once he saw my face. On impulse I denied the call because I was terrified at having him see me. I realized in hindsight that this action might have hurt his feelings, and quickly typed out an apology.

“I’m sorry about that. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, but,” I paused to think of a good enough excuse. None were coming quickly enough, and the longer I left him hanging, the more I feared making him feel bad. That was the last thing I wanted, and in a somewhat desperate effort I did the unthinkable and just settled for the truth. “I don’t think I’m ready for you to see me, yet.”

There was a pause on his end, and my worry spiked in my chest until I saw those comforting words, _Tabris is typing..._  

“You don't have to be sorry. I understand."

I breathed a sigh of relief, and didn't bit my nails quite as hard after that.

 _Tabris is typing..._ again.

"You know, you can always turn the camera off on your end, if that would make you feel more comfortable. I just had a feeling that you wanted to see me.”

I was surprised and confused by those words, though not because they were untrue. In truth, I had wondered what he looked like several times, and if I'd had the courage I would have asked him for a picture ages ago. Of course I felt like asking that would be far too bold, and might creep him out despite how open and frank he was with things like that. He seemed to have a habit of being able to draw conclusions about my thoughts and feelings even when I didn’t say anything, or tried to mask them by saying something else. The fact that he was so candid about this and willing to show himself to me without any strings attached left me speechless for a moment.

Hesitantly, I typed “Okay” and waited for him to call me again.

I made sure to check the “Disable Video” option that appeared before accepting the call, and immediately the screen expanded. In a window that almost completely covered my monitor, a video stream appeared. It loaded to show a smiling boy in a room that looked orange with the wash of the overhead light. By the way the light flickered behind him I could tell he had a ceiling fan on, and from the way he sat it seemed he was lounging on the floor, perhaps with his computer in front of him on a kotatsu table. He was staring straight at me, directly into the camera rather than at his screen. He smiled wider when the frame rate stabilized and I had an odd feeling then like he was trying to make eye contact.

It was him, and he was  _breathtaking_. My first thought was that his hair was longer than I expected. It was also a light, almost silvery grey that fell over his eyes and a little way down his neck in loose waves, another thing I hadn't expected. I wondered idly if he dyed it that way, and he brought a thin and graceful hand up to brush some stray locks out of his face. Even with how close he was the camera (and he seemed to be incredibly close), I couldn't make out things like the true color of his eyes and skin. Though the room was bathed in orange light, his features were washed out by the cool blue of his computer screen. His eyes almost looked violet in that light, with little squares of the screen reflected on the surface to make them twinkling and bright. His skin also seemed incredibly pale, and I wondered if maybe he was an albino, even though I had never actually seen an albino person before and didn't know if I had the right mental picture.

Even in this pixelated, low-res stream of him, it amazed me how beautiful he was.  I couldn't bring myself to speak for a long time, and when I finally did, I could only muster a soft “Wow...” I said this out loud, thoughtlessly, and when I did his smile widened. I realized then that he could still hear me even though my video was off, and I clapped my hand over my mouth as my face burned red.

“I take it you can see me, then. That's good, sometimes my camera doesn’t work very well...” he spoke smoothly at the screen, and I could have melted right then at how gentle his voice was. Even though it seemed suitable that such beautiful thoughts would be accompanied by an equally beautiful presence, I wasn't prepared to witness him even still. 

“So, then. Hello, Yui.” he said, his lips framing the words far too well.

For a moment the name felt foreign and painful to me, and I had no idea why he was calling me that. Then I realized that he didn’t know me by anything else, and figured I should probably tell him my real name later.

I exhaled a little and my confidence was bolstered by the fact that he could not see my uncertain face, eventually mumbling out a short, “H-hi, Tabris.”

“Ah, it’s a little strange to hear that name said out loud,” he said with a relaxed wave of his hand. “Please, my real name is Kaworu. You can call me that.”

“Alright...Kaworu.” I repeated, almost sighing as I smiled a little bit. It was nice to have a face and a real name to this personality I had come to know and enjoy so much. “And, um, you can call me Shinji. Th-that’s...that's my real name.”

“Shinji." he said with an expression on his face so dream-like, I wondered if he knew how obvious it was. “What a lovely name. In my head I always called you Yui. That one is a beautiful name too, but I like Shinji better."

I wanted to say thanks, but it came out so soft that I doubt he even heard it. Even if he did, I was too dizzy to realize it when he chuckled softly.

"In hindsight, I see it matches your voice quite well. It’s very," he paused for a moment, rubbing his jaw before continuing. "It's very soft. Even sweet, I could say.”

By this point I was starting to wonder if Kaworu might be a little odd. He loved my name? He thought my voice was sweet? He cared about my opinions and thoughts and enjoyed talking to me? Was he really this nice or was he messing with me? Is he some kind of weirdo? Am I thinking about it too much?

I was reeling uncertainly, incapable of processing so many compliments at one time. After a long pause,  I somehow found my voice for long enough to say, "Th..anks...?" He stared the whole time, and I could have stared back forever. He didn't seem impatient or expectant even in my silence. I think he waited for me to find myself, like he knew I needed time to process the things he said.

He laughed gently at my tone when I responded. He was amused by my shyness, and tried to draw me out of it rather than make fun of me for it.

“I say that for a reason, Shinji." He said, his laughter tempering out and his gentle smile left in its stead. "I have wondered for some time why you chose the name 'yui', on the site as well as on messenger. It is so simple, but I can tell there’s more to it than that. I thought it truly was your name for awhile, but since it is not, then it must hold some significance for you. Am I wrong?”

“Ah...I uh...,” I stumbled over my words, wishing we were still talking over text so that I could take my time to think properly. It was twice as awkward this way when I couldn’t reply quickly enough. In a brief panic, I went for the truth again, “It’s my mother’s name.”

“Your mother? Oh, she must be a very beautiful woman to have such a name.” he said, placing his elbow up beside the screen and resting his chin on his palm.

“Yeah, she is. Or, well...I guess, she was,” I replied, keeping my tone low but more from creeping sadness than embarrassment now. “She died when I was really young, so I don't remember clearly. I still have pictures of hero, though, and I look at them a lot so I don’t completely forget what she looked like.”

His face softened and his smile evened out into a sincere expression, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I hope I didn't bring up anything too painful for you.”

“Oh no, it’s okay. I came to terms with it a long time ago,” I said, a little more to myself than to him, but still staring at his face since it soothed me. “I miss her sometimes, though. I can’t help but feel like maybe things would be better if she were still around."

“I’m sure she misses you too,” he said gently. “I don’t know much about the afterlife, but I feel like every living thing leaves some sort of consciousness, even after death. It doesn't go anywhere, it just becomes intangible. Emotions, especially strong ones like a mother’s love for her child--things like that never go away. Any loving parent would miss their son, especially if he was as sweet as you.”

“I guess so...but the parent I still have couldn’t care less if I lived or died,” I said morosely, my bitter thoughts cutting through the sweetness of Kaworu’s words. “He gave me up and made me somebody else’s problem.”

“I suppose we have that in common,” he said with a dry smile and sat up straight, stretching languidly. “Hence my emphasis on the word ‘loving’.”

“I can’t imagine what kind of people wouldn't want you, though.” I said suddenly, trying to return the favor and make him feel better. “You’re really smart and nice, and you have a lot of really creative thoughts...I’ve don't think I've ever met anybody so perfect.”

At this he stopped stretching for a moment, then burst into laughter. It scared me a little with how suddenly it came, and I watched as he bent over and buried his face in one of his hands, shaking with it while using the other to hold himself up against the desk. I couldn’t understand what was so funny, and for a minute I wondered if I had said something wrong.

“Ah..haha, forgive me...I am not accustomed to that word, especially in reference to myself.” he said, calming down but still smiling.

“Well, you fit my definition of it.” I said frankly, a little surprised that I even let something like that slip out loud. He seemed surprised too, by the way he blinked quietly for a few moments.

“Well, thank you,” he said, only briefly flustered before returning to his calm and composed self. He was still recovering from the laughter, but as he rubbed his eyes I could have sworn his blush deepened when I said that.

“I have to admit, you definitely fit mine, as well.” He sighed, returning easily to his languid posture as if nothing had happened.

“Really?"

He nodded, still keeping his eyes on the camera, on me. "Even before we began speaking, there was something about you that made me want to get to know you.

"I didn’t really do anything, though. I mean, my profile is blank and I never left any comments or anything...”

“That is part of it. Your complete and thorough silence is what caught my attention. It made me curious. I thought of you perhaps as some peaceful spectator, unlike me, who always has something to say and must say it in as many words as possible." I disagreed with him implicitly as he said this, but let him finish anyway. "After talking to you, I learned that you had some very strong and interesting opinions, and there is a peace about you. You just don't seem to have much confidence in your opinions, or that peaceful power you hold. I sense that might be why you are uncomfortable with revealing your personal thoughts, because you don’t want to be judged for who you are. I understand that very well, and I love that about you.”

Another completely alien string of words--too intimate, too pleasant to be true. I understood then why he laughed before, because it was painfully funny to hear things that went so far against anything I could have thought about myself. He was right in some ways, but in those that flattered me I couldn't help but feel bitterly as if he couldn't have been more wrong.  
  
I was about to respond to him, but a sharp knock on my door cut me off and distracted me.

“Shinji! You still awake in there?” I heard Misato’s sleepy (or drunk) voice dragging its way through the door, and sighed heavily. “You got school in the morning, get off the phone 'nd go ta sleep! Last thing you need is to let your grades slip, okay?”

“Okay!” I exclaimed back at her, but in a defeated way, before turning back to the computer and seeing Kaworu’s curious face. I was embarrassed that he had to hear that, but still spoke to him in a hushed voice. “I’m sorry, I have to go now.”

“That's fine, I forgot you had school,” he said warmly, smiling into the camera. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

"Yeah!" I said, forgetting to hide my excitement. “I’ll get online as soon as I come home from school.”

“Wonderful. I will see you then, Shinji. Good night.” And with that, he hung up the call with a smile. I stared at the blank screen a few moments too long before turning off my computer and climbing in bed.

I slept so peacefully then, that it felt like I was truly resting and relaxed for the first time in since I could remember.

* * *

  
Things had actually started to look up after that. With enough nights of seeing Kaworu’s face and hearing him speak to me so sweetly, I actually began to feel better. I felt more at peace, more often, and I hardly realized it except in those lucid moments when our conversations would end and I noticed how much lighter my body was when I walked to my bed. I realized how much easier it was to distract myself during school, taking solace in thoughts of him and finding the days passed by so much more quickly knowing I would see him at the end of them.

I no longer hurt myself, or cared that I was ignored at school. People started to give me funny looks because I smiled to myself a lot more now, but I hardly noticed. All that mattered was at the end of the day I could go home, find Kaworu online, and within seconds he would call me. Once he knew his video had loaded completely, he would always say, “Hello, Shinji. I missed you.” and it never failed to make me smile.

For awhile I thought it was weird for him to say that. It seemed so tender, and when he said it there was such genuine happiness in his face that made me think he might really mean it that way. Sometimes I wondered if he had a crush on me, but only after I started to think I might feel that way about him. I noticed sometimes that I'd stare at his face and watch the way his mouth and eyes moved when he spoke, even without paying attention to what he said. His voice made me warm, and a few times when he spoke lowly and smoothly enough, I’d lose my breath and my stomach would clench in that acute sort of way. I tried not to think about it too much, and was silently glad that I never had my video on for him to see these tells. Even still, the way he looked into the camera made me feel like he could still see me somehow, and I often spent whole conversations sitting in a heated blush.

Much time passed in this way, and before I knew it winter break had come. I was more happy for it than I normally would have been, because it meant I would have more time to talk to him. As soon as I arrived home on the first day, I rushed upstairs to my room and got on the computer as usual to open up the messenger. I was in a bit of a frenzy to talk to him then, eager to use as much of my time doing so as I possibly could. Even though there would be plenty, it still felt like I couldn't waste any of it, like any moment away from him was squandered.

When he answered the call and the screen loaded, he opened his mouth to say his usual hello, but stopped before the words came out. His mouth was frozen open and he stared at the screen with a vacant and unreadable expression.

“Kaworu?” I said uncertainly, staring at him and beginning to wonder if something was seriously wrong. He wasn’t moving at all, and I had to check my internet connection to make sure the stream wasn’t frozen.

"Oh." I heard him whisper after a long pause, and I looked back at him with an extremely confused face. "...My..."

With the long gaps of stillness and pauses between his words, I wondered if there was some glitch I wasn't catching.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me alright?”

"Oh!" He said, as if only hearing me right then. "Yes...yes, I...can hear you just fine,” he said, a little more coherent but still clearly distracted. Eventually, finally, the stream seemed back to normal and I watched as his posture relaxed. He leaned forward with a wide and satisfied smile, his eyes resting just below the camera where he usually stared at me, instead watching the screen. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you, that's all. It was a very pleasant surprise."

“Wasn’t expecting to see...me...?” I started to question him, then unintentionally glanced at the bottom corner of my screen. I furrowed my brow when I noticed a very small box there. I was so preoccupied with Kaworu that I hadn't noticed it before, and after staring for a moment I realized I was looking at my own bewildered face, illuminated by nothing but the glow of my computer screen.

I almost screamed and stared petrified at my webcam, seeing the little green light beside it was on, likely since I had started the call. In a frenzied panic I almost knocked my computer over to cover up the lens and obscure Kaworu’s view of me, desperately searching for a way to turn it off.

As soon as I had disappeared, Kaworu seemed to fully recover himself and started to laugh at my embarrassment.

“W-why are you laughing? I-I didn’t even know it was on! Jeez, g-give me a break, how do I turn off this stupid...” I was completely exasperated as my arms started to ache with how stiffly I was holding my hands up to the camera. I kept them there, afraid that any slack in my grip would reveal the full extent of my burning face. I couldn't even look at him then, nor could I seem to figure out for the life of me how to turn the thing off in the meanwhile. 

"I am sorry to laugh. You're just too lovely when you're embarrassed," his face softened, and he even seemed a little disappointed when he spoke. “It was a really nice surprise to see your face...I didn’t know how to react for a moment. It was just a lot to take in so unexpectedly.”

I had no idea what to say, and was trapped in a state of utter disbelief and blinding embarrassment. I was still gripping the camera, and too afraid to speak. It didn’t really make sense to keep doing it; he had already seen me. He stared at me for several minutes yet hadn’t hung up or said anything bad about the way I looked. In fact, thinking back, he looked happy and had even used words like "lovely".

I looked back at the screen to see him still staring. “Please, Shinji...,” he said earnestly, and the tone of his voice made my heart pound in my chest. “Let me see you again.”

“I’m not even much to look at...I didn't even m-mean to..."

"You're so beautiful, though, Shinji. Please." Again with those honeyed words. I felt as if I might pass out. I couldn't comprehend it, not even the meaning of what he said.

"I-it’s pretty dark in here, so...y-yknow, I might look different than you think--”

“ _Please_?”

His voice seemed tinged with desperation, compared to how he usually sounded. It was impossible to believe that he actually enjoyed looking at me in any sense. That he wanted to see me, and maybe even found me attractive in the same way I found him when I first saw his face. His opinion of me directly contradicted my opinion of myself, and it was impossible to fathom that he could really think that way. But I saw his face, and his smile was fading into a steady sadness that pained me to see. I realized I would feel the same way if he had acted how I was now. If I couldn’t see his face day after day after catching that first glimpse of it, it would be immeasurably cruel.

I took a deep breath and swallowed my fears as best as I could, hesitating for a few moments before sliding my hands down from the lens. I averted my eyes from the camera and kept scratching awkwardly at the corners of my mouth, or wiping my nose, or fidgeting with something on my desk; anything to cover at least part of my face or keep from having to confront the fact that my barrier was gone. It was a strange feeling, and very uncomfortable. I didn't want to feel it, and was almost frustrated with myself for not being able to just shake it off. Was I really so afraid that he would like me any less after seeing me? Would it devastate me so much if he didn’t like something about me?

I looked back at him, for he had been silent for quite some time, and blushed twice as much when I saw that he witnessed me shamlessly. I don’t know for how long, but I caught his gaze for at least a full minute and not once did he look away or even blink.

“Forgive me Shinji I just...” He shifted a little and chuckled--nervously?--before smoothing a hand through his hair. “I’ve wondered for so long what you looked like. All sorts of images came into my head, I tried so hard to picture you as we spoke. But seeing you now, not even the most pleasant face I could conjure in my mind came close to how you look. It's breathtaking."

“Uh...Th-thanks...,” I started off, faltering a little. It was even more difficult to talk, but I ignored my apprehensions. “Honestly that’s kind of hard to hear, haha. I’ve never...I mean, no one’s ever said anything so nice to me before."

Kaworu looked like he wanted to say something, but I couldn't stop myself from continuing on, "I’m really not used to this at all. Everything about you, it's...like nothing I've ever experienced. You’re always so nice to me, and you always say things that are hard to understand because they’re so different from what I’ve always heard from everyone else.”

I was rambling without really meaning to, but I could feel that he was hanging on my every word. I could feel that he was truly listening. Maybe I imagined it and was just flattering myself, but he let me go on even longer after that.

“H-hah...honestly, it’s a little too much sometimes! From the first day we started talking, it was impossible for me to believe that you had any sort of interest in me at all. I’m so boring and plain...no one _ever_  wants to hear what I have to say. I’d gotten used to that. I learned how to deal with that, and I was fine with it. But you’re so different. You always ask me what I think or how I feel about the things you say, or really abstract stuff, like I'm smart enough to say something worthwhile. You say I sound sweet, and now you’re calling me beautiful and it’s...it’s all too much...”

Before I knew it, my vision was blurring and my eyes started to burn. I felt a knot forming in my throat and found it hard to breathe as tears streamed from my eyes. Kaworu looked concerned but didn't say anything. Another moment and I was sniffling, and barely contained a sob. I didn’t want to cry with him watching me. I hated crying in front of other people, but I couldn’t stop myself.

I bent my head down and brought my legs up in the chair, pressing my knees against my chest and burying my face in them. I cried into my thighs, unable to stifle my barely muffled sobs.

“Shinji, please don’t cry.” I heard Kaworu say softly, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him just yet. “I wish I could make you see your worth. I can’t understand how no one else would. I don't know how some people could see you everyday and not tell you tirelessly what a blessing you are. I’ve never known anyone like you before, either, to be honest. You’re pure, and insightful, and more intelligent than you know, but you’ve seen and endured so much pain. It hurts me to imagine how it must feel for you; down to my very soul, it hurts. I’m sorry, Shinji.”

As he spoke, I gradually began to calm down. I wiped my face, and peeked above my knees at him to see that he had his arm out toward the screen, as if trying to reach forward and touch me. The gesture alone was enough to make my heart sink with tender sadness to the pit of my stomach, and I reached forward as well, my fingers lightly touching the screen. Even though they were right over his face, all I could feel was smooth, hard glass and I realized then that I wanted nothing more than to have him there with me. To hug him, or touch his hair, or watch the small wrinkles in his face as his lips curled up into a smile. I felt like I’d wanted that for a long time, maybe since the first day I saw him, and I was only just then aware of that desire.

“It’s okay, Kaworu. You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” I said quietly and rested my feet on the floor again, to lean forward a little closer to the screen. “Honestly...you've done a lot for me already.”

“I don’t feel like it’s enough,” he said, laughing a little even though I could tell he was growing more saddened by the moment. “I want to do so much more for you. I want to be there for you every day--even right now, I want nothing more than to hold you and dry every tear from your face. I want to see you smile and know that I helped you to it. I want to take all of your pain and do everything in my power to make sure you never hurt ever again. I want...there's so much I want for you, Shinji.”

“That’s more than I could ever ask for, Kaworu,” I said quietly, my smile widening just at the thought. “You’re amazing. I dunno what I did to deserve all of that, but...I’m...I’m really glad I met you.”

He laughed a little and finally pulled his hand away from the screen. It seemed like he wanted to say something, like the words were about to burst from his chest and for the first time ever since we had started talking to each other, I think he was holding back. A second later he sighed contently and stretched again, as casually as if nothing had happened.

“Um, I-I wanted to tell you something, though,” I said suddenly, a little more relaxed now that I had gotten all of that off of my chest and wasn’t rejected like I had feared.

"Oh? And what is it?"

“W-well, winter break started today!" I managed to smile fairly widely even though my chest still felt heavy from crying. I was uplifted by his words, and the fact that had me so elated before that I made the mistake that started this whole thing. "I have a few weeks off, so I'll be able to talk to you even more now! Or, well...at least...u-until school starts again.”

“Is that so...” he said, his tone still calm but his eyes brightening visibly. “That’s wonderful to hear. If I didn’t have to work, I would stay and talk to you all day until school started again.”

“Oh, yeah...that’s right...I forgot you had to work.” I said, a little disheartened. In the back of my mind I had hoped to spend every waking moment talking to him, and I was a little embarrassed by how naive that mindset was.

“Don’t worry, about it,” he said with a bit of a shrug. “I’m usually off by the afternoon. I get home a few hours before you most days, so now that you’re on break we can still talk more.”

“Ah, okay.” I said, sighing with relief. Then I coughed a little to try and mask my excitement. “I want to make the most of this holiday. I feel like it’s possible I might even enjoy myself this year...”

Kaworu’s smile widened and the way his eyes crinkled up filled me with some inexplicable warmth and joy, “I get the same feeling. This might be my first happy winter in a very long time.”


	3. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He paused. It might have been for effect, or he might have been so excited he could hardly get the words out, but either way it was unbearable. I just wanted him to say those words, to confirm what I was hoping and praying for with all of my might in this moment. I wanted to hear him say it so I knew it was real.

As anticipated, I spent as much time as possible talking to Kaworu over the course of the break. Part of me was afraid that after we had been talking to each other for so long, things would finally peter out and he’d no longer be interested in talking to me. It was a bit tiring to think that way still, but it hovered at the edge of my mind even during our most placid conversations. I thought we could plateau somehow, and that our conversations from then on would become dry and forced. As if that was all it were based on, whatever it was we had.

Thankfully, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I would sit at my computer for hours and hours on end waiting for him, mostly playing games or idly browsing for things to hold my interest. After the first day or two of this, Misato playfully complained that I was turning into a shut-in.

“Just because you don’t have school for awhile doesn’t mean you can just sit around the house all day.” She was engaging in her favorite past time of prodding at me while I was cooking, but her tone was lighthearted and I was in too good of a mood to take it to heart anyway.

“A boy your age has to get out and meet people, y'know! You don’t have to start living like an old man until you get there.”

I just nodded and rolled my eyes, laughing a little. There was no way that I could explain how much more I got out of talking to Kaworu on the computer than any conversation I attempted at school or elsewhere. It was worth it to wait for however long I had to until he was home from work and signed in. There was always a pleasant little jingle that came along with the notification, and I had begun to associate that sound with pure excitement and joy. Like an excited puppy trained to the sound of their owner coming home, my heart would begin racing immediately when I heard it.

Most of the time, Kaworu answered the call while still in his work uniform, and it made me wonder if he came online the minute he got home so as not to keep me waiting. That was probably flattering myself a little too much, but I still enjoyed the thought. I would always ask him about his day, and he would calmly recount every little thing. Most of it would have probably been boring otherwise, but I hung on his every word even if just to hear him say it. Plus, this was best way for me to learn a little more about his daily life. He worked as a barista and server at a cafe, and seemed to enjoy it more than I would expect anyone to like a job like that. He knew things about coffee and tea that I wouldn't have even thought to ask, and excitedly answered any questions I had about them despite how silly they may have been. He was happy to tell me about new ingredients that came in, or some interesting concoction he had come up with in his down time. It always made me smile to see him so animated, and it was always nice to watch him idly free himself of the apron or loosen his tie and wind down as we talked.

There was one day in particular, a few days into winter break, that he was online much earlier than usual.

I woke up and plodded over to the computer out of habit, surprised to see that he was already online when I signed in. Usually I just signed on first thing in the morning, and left the window open for the rest of the day so that I wouldn't miss him. Before I could even click on his name to start a call, a call from _him_  appeared on my screen. When I answered it, he was grinning so widely, I couldn't help but note that I had never seen him show his teeth while smiling before.

“Wow, good morning!” I said with some surprise, taken aback but still delighted by the sight of him. “You’re on early today.”

“I couldn’t help myself. I had the day off, but I woke up early just to wait for you.” he said, brimming with excitement and a level of energy I hadn’t seen from him before. “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“Well...,” he sighed and folded his hands in front of himself, resting his chin on them. “For a few months now, I’ve been saving up a bit extra from my check and tips. I’ve had it in my head to visit you someday for quite some time, but never really had a plan for it until recently.” The more he spoke, the wider my eyes became, until I was clenching my fists in anticipation of his every word. “I’ve...had the money for awhile, but still had to find time off. After all, a visit of only a day or two is hardly enough, don't you think? In any case, I had asked my boss some time ago, and he called me today to agree to it. He expects the snow to get worse up here and is going to close the shop for the rest of the week, hence why I have the time off. It's only about five days, but it is the best I could muster for the time being, and I feel that we could make the most of it. So, what I am really trying to say, in so many words, is that...”

He paused. It might have been for effect, or he might have been so excited he could hardly get the words out, but either way it was unbearable. I just wanted him to say those words, to confirm what I was hoping and praying for with all of my might in this moment. I wanted to hear him say it so I knew it was real.

“I’d like to come and see you, Shinji. If you’ll have me.”

I was so beside myself that I had to cover my mouth and mute the microphone for a minute to just...laugh. Or scream. Or some mixture of the two. I can't really place the sound I made, but it was all I could think to do with myself. I did it until my face turned red and my breath got short and my eyes started to water; it was gross and embarrassing but I couldn't care that much. I was so overcome with excitement that I couldn’t contain myself. I just needed to let it out for a moment, and Kaworu waited rather patiently for me to get over it.

I unmuted the mic when I was done to hear Kaworu laughing too, because I’m sure he could tell what I was doing even without sound.

“Oh my god...Kaworu, I would love that! I-I...I have to figure out what we’re gonna do! I can to take you to Akihabara, have you ever been there? Oh and I can show you my favorite park in Shibuya, it's so lovely...You can stay in my room! Oh man, I’ll have to get some groceries, too. I'll cook for you everyday, and--Wait! Ah, hold on one second!” I was talking at a hundred miles an hour, and even as I bounced out of my chair, I still turned back to the computer. “I just need to ask Misato first! I mean I’m sure she’ll probably say yes, but--” I reached the door and opened it. “--just in case, y'know, so she’s not surprised--” Then peaked from behind it and caught Kaworu’s laughing face craning to try and see me. “--be right back!”

I almost stumbled over the stairs on my way down, making an unholy amount of noise while doing so. Misato was waiting at the bottom, her eyebrows raised and her face weighted with concern.

“Um, Shinji? Everything okay?” she said, apparently uncertain as to whether she should be amused or genuinely worried right now.

“Y-yeah...I’m fine--"

"You sure? Cause I could swear I just heard screaming coming from your room. Not exactly what I'd call 'fine'."

"No, no--well, yeah, that was me...but listen!” I said hurriedly, somehow breathless from all of the talking and running. “So, you’ve been telling me to get out more and meet people and stuff, right? And you know already that it’s...kind of hard for me to do that a lot of the time...but, I mean, I did meet someone! The thing is though, they live pretty far away, so I haven't seen them ye--...em...in awhile. It's complicated.” She raised both eyebrows at me now, clearly trying to parse through all I was saying and read deeper into what I wasn't. I didn’t exactly want to lie, but it also didn't seem wise to tell her _everything_ just yet, since I didn’t want to be shut down. “A-anyway, that's all beside the point...he’s coming into town for winter break! And, y-y'know, it would suck if he had to get a hotel just to stay for a few days, so...uh, I was wondering, I guess, since we have that extra room and--”

“ _Woah_ , woah. Woah. Slow down for a second,” she said with a chuckle, putting her hand on my shoulder and leaning in close to me. I was partially out of breath from running downstairs and talking so fast, and she seemed exhausted just listening. “Let me get it straight...you have a friend coming into town, and you’re asking if he can stay here, right?"

"Yeah!"

"For how long, exactly?”

“Just for the rest of the week! So only like four days, five at the most.”

“I see. And have I met him? I mean, who is he? How long have you known each other?”

“Ah...well, no, you haven’t met him, but we’ve known each other for almost a year now!” I said, a little surprised myself at how accurate that was when I said it. It had been almost a year to the date since I’d first spoken to him, and the thought alone was enough to bring a huge smile to my face. “His name is Kaworu. He’s really nice and he definitely won’t be a bother or anything! You'd really like him, I know it.”

I could tell she was still a little apprehensive, but definitely considering it. That much was understandable; I realized in her silence that this was the most animated and excited I had ever been about _anything_ , and it was probably a bit scary for her. Most of the time she was lucky to get more than a two word response out of me, yet here I was, talking so fast and so much that I was running out of breath.

“...Well...,” she said, her face softening but her tone trying to remain stern. “Maybe. On two conditions; first off, _we'll_  meet him at the train station, not here. Second, I want to get to know him a little first, and if I like him as much as you say,  _then_ he can stay here. Otherwise I’ll help put him up at a cheap hotel somewhere, and you'll only hang out with my supervision. Deal?”

“Deal! Yeah! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Conditions aside, I was beside myself at this point, falling against her and wrapping my arms around her waist. After a few seconds, I ran back upstairs to tell Kaworu the good news, barely catching the warm smile that crossed Misato’s face as she watched me.

* * *

  
Immediately after asking permission, it was decided (with some input from Misato) that Kaworu would take the train to Shinjuku and we would meet him there. He told me the ride would be about five hours (which floored me, because I couldn’t imagine wanting sit on a train for five hours) and that he would arrive around noon. From there, Misato would take us out for lunch (mostly to interrogate him) and that he would either come stay with us afterward, or at a hostel she had found nearby. Kaworu expressed several times that he’d be perfectly willing and able to pay for the hostel himself if staying there made her more comfortable, but she wouldn't hear it. I had to explain to him that once Misato found it in herself to offer something nice, there was no denying her courtesy. She’d sooner force someone to accept a gift than take any kind refusal, no matter how polite.

Kaworu wanted to be fully rested for the trip since he would be leaving the next day, and signed off a lot earlier than usual to go to bed. I decided to try and get some sleep myself (since all I ever did anymore was talk to him), but it was nearly impossible no matter how hard I tried. I was far too excited and could barely sit still, so I spent the whole night looking up different places to go and different things to show to him when he visited. He had never been to Tokyo before, and I wanted to make sure that there was plenty for us to do, partly to ease the pressure of having to host a guest for the first time in my life.

I eventually ran out of interesting things to look up, and busied myself with carefully laying out something to wear for Kaworu's arrival. I never put effort into what I wore, but obviously I had to micromanage and obsess over every detail. I was mostly just keeping myself busy after a certain point, but my second guessing and over-analyzing ensured that I changed and rearranged the clothes maybe a hundred times before settling on something.

The time finally came that I officially ran out of things to do, and there was still a period of several hours before I was supposed to wake up. I reluctantly crawled into bed and just stared at the wall, since I was no less wired than before. Even then, I was still smiling as I thought about the possibilities of my time with Kaworu over and over. Eventually, I was able to doze off, but for hardly more than an hour before the alarm shook me awake. I instantly rolled out of bed and jumped into the clothes I had laid out not so long ago, feeling as spry and alert as ever. I wasn’t used to having so much energy, and it was certainly overwhelming, but equal parts invigorating. The physical sensation of it was a little like an anxiety attack, but for once I felt no dread, anger, or fear. For once, it was completely positive and I didn’t dissect it because I knew I would be able to find some way to ruin that.

It’s a good thing I set the alarm early, because Misato was still sound asleep by the time I had finished dressing, and I had to jostle her around for a good five minutes before she even responded.

Thirty more minutes passed and we were in the car. I was practically bouncing in my seat, gazing out the window with a wide smile on my face. I bunched my coat around me and noted the weather outside, the snowfall just thin enough that I could see everything around, but thick enough to coat the ground and chill the air completely. It looked beautiful, and I wondered if Kaworu would like the view as much as I did.

When we finally reached the train station, I made a beeline for the arrival board and scoured it thoroughly to find out which terminal would be Kaworu’s. We were _still_ fifteen minutes early, and it was likely that the train would arrive a little late due to the weather, but I still made my way to the platform as quickly as possible and sat down at a bench. My knees bounced with anticipation and I couldn’t stop fidgeting with my gloves, partly from the cold but obviously mostly from nerves. Misato just yawned and sipped a hot coffee she bought from the vending machine, watching with half closed eyes as I tumbled over myself with pent up energy. She wasn't awake enough to tease me like I knew she wanted to, but she kept her eyes on me with an amused little smile while I glanced up and down the tracks.

I asked Misato the time just about every two minutes, and I was a bit surprised that she answered in the same patient monotone each time rather than get annoyed. Half-asleep and not-suffering-from-a-hangover Misato was more pleasant than what I was used to, and I almost wished she would start some banter with me to give my mind something else to focus on. She just quietly leaned against the pole near my bench, though, tossing out the cup and stretching.

"What time is it now?"

"Mmmmmmh, twelve o' six."

"It was supposed to arrive at noon..." I said idly, my neck a bit stiff from twisting it so much.

"Well, it is snowing y'know. I bet it's even worse where he's coming from, being up in the mountains and all."

"Of all the days for it to snow, it has to be--" I paused mid-complaint when a sonorous chime filled the terminal. Even before the announcement started, I stood up and looked down the tracks, knowing that the sound heralded the train's arrival. Sure enough, I saw that steel behemoth gliding rapidly up the line and skidding to a gentle halt. As the cars passed by, I squinted into as many windows as I could catch with my eye, trying spot Kaworu before he got off. Of course I couldn’t differentiate anyone's features, but that didn't keep me from trying. The train came to a full stop and people started to pour out of the doors and onto the terminal. I craned my aching neck over the small sea of bodies in search of that shaggy head of silver hair, even standing on the bench to look over the taller heads.

“What’s he look like?” Misato asked after some time of this, pushing off from the pole and looking around herself to help me out.

“He’s kinda skinny, really pale...hair is all grey and probably a little messed up...” I answered absently, the greater part of my attention focused on trying to seek him out as I described him to her.

As the crowd started to thin out, the fear started to creep in a little bit. That insidious, ever pessimistic voice hellbent on supressing any bit of happiness I allowed myself clawed its way up the back of my mind and whispered in my ear.

_He’s not actually coming, you know. He probably tricked you._

“No...not now, please, not now...” I groaned quietly to myself. For the first time the thought wasn’t just dull murmuring this time...this seemed too tangible. Too real. Almost as if it were a more sinister version of my own voice hissing directly into my brain.

 _Think about it. People who live ten minutes away from you don't even want to see you. Why would someone--why would_ anyone-- _travel_  five hours _just to see_ you _?_ _Of all people! It’s hilarious!_

Another chime identical to the one that had filled me to bursting with hope and happiness sounded over the intercom. The smooth, automated voice that announced everything crooned some incoherent announcement of the next departure time. I screwed my face up and bit my lip, looking around a little less enthusiastically now. Much of the rush was gone, and it was easier to discern each person from the other now. I gripped the corners of my hat and pulled it down snugly over my ears, as if trying to shield myself from the thought that maybe Kaworu really wasn’t coming. Maybe everything had just been some elaborate trick, or better yet, so horribly sweet dream that I had finally woken up from. It made the most sense after all, when I really thought about it. It seemed I was destined for nothing good, no matter what I tried, and now, when happiness had seemed so close...now...

“Hey, is that him?” Misato’s voice cut through the suffocating doom like a beacon, and made me look up again with blind hope.

As if for extra weight and effect, like something out of a movie the very last person to step onto the platform was exactly who I needed it to be.

He was even thinner than I had imagined, or he seemed that way with how his clothes hung loosely on his frame. He had nothing but an oversized knapsack slung over his shoulders, and was gazing around with a tranquil, almost sleepy expression. His hair was still just as disheveled and grey as it appeared those many times on camera. His posture just as relaxed, just as effortless, and in control as ever.

I stood petrified even when Misato moved closer to me and gently shook my shoulder because I hadn’t responded. Even though there was living, breathing, physical proof in front of me that my hope hadn't been in vain, the voice in my head still wanted to tell me that I was hallucinating or somehow mistaken.

I had almost let it convince me, too, until Kaworu spotted me and his face lifted into a welcoming smile. He started to walk toward me--or glide, it seemed--his hair billowing with the light breeze as he moved, his clothes rustling on his frame as he shifted a large and lumpy knapsack further up his shoulder. He closed the distance between us and was soon standing in front of me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Hello, Shinji.” His words to me were simple and familiar, but his tone was saturated in something inviting and inexplicable. His voice was even more captivating in person, and as I stared up at him--for he was a few inches taller than me--I was distracted by the startling red of his eyes, contrasting greatly with his gentle features. I was mesmerized by them, and I opened my mouth to respond but all I could do was a make quiet gagging noise. Kaworu laughed and casually swept his bangs away, rolling his shoulders just a little. “I hope you two weren’t waiting long...I fell asleep during the ride and only one person in the whole car was nice enough to wake me up! People are so strange sometimes..."

Misato chuckled and responded to his little comment, but I was drowning in their words. My mind was torn between trying to process him as real and trying to convince me that he wasn't, and I felt distinctly as if I might crumble in his presence. He noticed my silence pretty quickly, and his words drifted back through my awareness to snap me out of it briefly.

"Shinji? Are you okay?”

I had hardly moved the whole time he spoke, save for trembling slightly. I managed to reach up with a shaking hand and press it to his cheek. Even though I had thick mittens on, I could still feel some dull warmth from his skin and the curve of his cheekbone beneath my fingertips. I didn’t care how strange it might have seemed, I just needed to confirm that he was real. When that fact was irrefutable, and there was nothing more that my mind could do to convince me otherwise, tears welled up in my eyes and choked any other words I may have said before they could form. It must have taken Kaworu by surprise, but he did nothing to indicate discomfort or anything negative. Instead, he set his bag down and leaned forward to rest his chin on my shoulder while I shook under the weight of my sobs. He brought his arms around me and hugged me gently, nudging my head into his shoulder until I buried my face into his coat and could bring myself to wrap my arms around him too.

I forgot about Misato for the moment. All I knew was Kaworu standing in front of me and holding me, his naked fingers a little cold against the back of my head. Even though we stood there for several minutes before I showed any sign of pulling away, he stayed still and let me cling to him as long as I needed to.

Finally, I let go of him and wiped my face, taking a few deep breaths to regain myself as best as I could. I finally turned to Misato, smiling wide in spite of my red cheeks and burning eyes, saying cheerfully, “Ah, well then. Okay, I am... I'm really hungry all of a sudden.”

* * *

  
The drive away from the train station was quiet, with me sitting in the back this time so I could be next to Kaworu. My hand was resting on my thigh, and as if it were just the thing to do, he quietly reached over to place his on top of it. He moved gently, as if asking for permission, and ready to withdraw if I did not give it. My face burned again and I couldn’t help but smile as he did this, even though I was too nervous to hold onto his in return. I didn’t move away though, and gave an assenting little twitch of my fingers to show my approval. I was happy when he read this silent agreement and gripped me a little tighter. I don’t know if Misato saw this or not--I hoped she didn’t, even if only because I knew she would make fun of me for it later.

We arrived at a cozy restaurant near the station within a few minutes, and took our seats at one of the booths in the back. As soon as I received a menu, I held it up in front of my face but didn't really read any of it it at all. I kept throwing sideways looks at Kaworu (who had edged into the seat beside me), watching his dreamy face as he took to admiring the decorations on the table rather than reading over the menu. I then looked at Misato and could tell she was holding him under strict scrutiny. She wasn’t quick to trust anyone no matter how they seemed at first glance, and the way she stared at him made me embarrassed for him. I hoped that he wouldn’t catch her look, and we continued to sit in silence for a long while until the waiter came back to ask for our orders.

"Mm?" Kaworu said absently, looking from the lantern above our table at the smiling waiter. "Oh...well, actually, I have a question. Do you serve pancakes here?"

"U-um...no?" The waiter said, his smile faltering a bit as he glanced between us uncertainly. We were at a pretty distinctly Chinese restaurant, and nothing on the menu indicated that pancakes had ever been served there.

"Ah, then forgive me. This lantern you have here," He pointed up at it, his fingers gracing the translucent green globe that held a small bulb in it. "It's really very nice. I love the way everything is decorated, it's very distracting in a good way."

"O-oh...well, thank you!" The waiter seemed to brighten up a little, recovering from the previous question that he couldn't have possibly been prepared for. "The owner picked everything out quite carefully. A lot of the pieces here were commissioned by local artisans. Funnily enough, many of them are first generation Chinese immigrants, and friends of the owner's family--"

Misato cleared her throat, and I couldn't stop myself from snickering a little. "That's very fascinating, but I'm ready to order."

Kaworu had begun resting his chin in his hand and gazed at the waiter with a look of deep and genuine interest. It's no wonder the waiter lost himself in his little tangent with such a captive listener, and it was only when Misato interrupted that he seemed to catch himself doing it. A hot wash of color came over his face and he tore his eyes away from Kaworu to take Misato's order, turning to me automatically afterward. When it came to Kaworu's turn, he just smiled and said, "Bring me your favorite thing on the menu." This seemed to fluster the server even more, and even I was in awe at how effortlessly it seemed to happen. I don't think Kaworu realized he was doing it, but I wouldn't have been surprised if the waiter had been too embarrassed (or enamored) to return to our table after that.

We were left in a brief silence after that. I was flushing a bit myself from the exchange, while Misato tapped her finger impatiently on the table. She was still trying to suss out Kaworu when our drinks were brought to the table, and he was just as oblivious as before. He was in the process of staring into a moving lightbox picture at our table when Misato sighed and spoke up.

“Alright then, I’m just gonna get straight to the point,” she said, folding her arms and trying to look hardened. Kaworu only smiled wider and sat up expectantly. “Who are you, how _old_ are you, where are you from, and how did you meet Shinji.”

“ _Misato_...” I mumbled at her with an earnest stare, but she was unflinching.

“I apologize for not introducing myself more thoroughly before,” Kaworu began, nodding his head with such indelible politeness that I can tell Misato wavered for a moment. “My name is Kaworu Nagisa. I just turned fifteen a week ago. I’m from Takayama, in Gifu prefecture. I met Shinji on a website about a year ago and we have been messaging each other perhaps on a daily basis since then.”

I was a little horrified by the total transparency of his answers, something I had personally been avoiding, and worried a bit over what Misato might think. More importantly though, I was a little surprised that he hadn’t told me about his birthday. I couldn’t help but wonder why there wasn't even a mention of it, but decided not to say anything for the time being.

“On a website? That can be a bit dangerous nowadays...” Misato said, her eyebrow cocked and her gaze darting toward me. She was reacting just the way I knew she would, with parental caution and mild surprise. “Shinji told me you’ve known each other for a year...so that whole time, you were just...chatting on the internet?”

“Yes.” Kaworu said obtusely and I wondered if he was even aware of how strange this information might sound to someone else.

“...Well. I’m not going to say I condone that sort of thing, but I suppose you’re should count yourself lucky Kaworu turned out to be who he said he was, Shinji.” Misato said sternly and I pulled my hat down a little farther over my head. To my relief, the waiter returned to our table with small plates of seaweed salad and the beer that Misato ordered, which distracted and relieved her enough to create a break in the questions.

Not long after that, our food arrived and we were able to focus more on eating. Kaworu prodded at his meal curiously before tasting it, and making sure to call the waiter over again and voice his thorough enjoyment of the dish that had been selected for him. Misato had eased up a bit in her interview in favor of some more relaxed and casual conversation, and I sat quietly at the corner of the table, watching them engage with each other. This was aided by the fact that Misato had the opportunity to destroy a few beers, and after a little while she was so relaxed that she was even offering some to Kaworu.

“I like you, Kaworu,” she said, not quite drunk, but still loose in her speech. “Shinji said I would, but I was a little worried at first, y’know? I just wanna make sure he's safe, and that he's okay. He has a lot of trouble making friends, you see...”

_Oh god no._

“...And I know it’s been hard for him over the years, with everything that's been going on. For a long time I didn’t think he’d ever find anybody to get along with. Not that it’s his fault or anything, kids these days are pretty ruthless.”

Kaworu listened intently, his head resting on his hand the same way it did when the waiter spoke to him. Again, he seemed fully taken in by what was said to him, his eyes fixed earnestly on her. He had only finished half of his food, but when Misato started talking he turned his attention away from it completely. I, meanwhile, buried my face deeper in mine and pretended that I couldn’t hear her.

“You seem like a nice boy, Kaworu. Real nice,” she said with a smile and reached her hand forward to clasp Kaworu’s resting on the table. “I want you to take care of Shinji. I mean, I do my best and everything, but there’s only so much I can do as a...guardian...caretaker, or whatever. I’m not a friend, and that’s what he needs right now. It's probably what he's always needed.”

“I understand.” Kaworu responded quietly, and my face burned even brighter. “I had decided that myself quite some time ago, actually...around the time I heard his voice for the first time. I know what it’s like to be lonely for so long, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially not Shinji.”

It was a little uncomfortable to hear them talking about me as if I wasn’t sitting right there, but their words were so warm and loving that it wasn't too bad. The way Kaworu spoke--so sweet but succinct, as if everything he said was a pure and simple fact--filled me with a sort of pride and warmth I wasn't used to. It seemed they had some effect on Misato as well, because she let out a strangled sob and nearly knocked over everything on the table to lunge at Kaworu and pull him into a tight hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am starting to enjoy writing Misato, she's a cool cat. I'll probably sprinkle in some other random characters here and there but this is essentially the Kawoshin show so there won't be a lot of them pbblttpt. anyway! thanks for the support guys, I'll put up the next chapter as soon as I can!


	4. After Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't ruin it by being yourself."

Misato brought Kaworu and me back at the apartment after lunch, loudly complaining about not wanting to stay stuck in the house with teenagers all day. In a bit of a flurry, she shoved some money in my hands (presumably to order food if we got hungry again) before driving off. I assumed it had something to do with a call she had gotten from her boyfriend during lunch, but simply smiled and waved her off as she peeled out from the parking garage. Honestly, I was glad that she left us alone, because it meant an end to her prodding Kaworu and telling humiliating stories about me. Yet another part of me was exponentially more nervous about the fact that I was probably going to be alone with Kaworu for the rest of the night. It’s not at all that I didn’t want to be; in fact, I wanted it so much that I was agonizingly self-conscious about my every action. I had hardly spoken during lunch or on the ride home for fear of saying the wrong thing, and Misato provided a buffer to keep him occupied while I retreated into myself. Even without her there, I couldn’t bear to look at him without blushing like an idiot or stumbling over my words. I was making an absolute fool of myself and I knew it would only get worse without Misato around to distract him.

I coughed and tugged awkwardly at the string on my coat while we stood in the parking garage, neither of us moving even after Misato had been gone for several minutes. Eventually I muttered something about getting inside to warm up and started shuffling off toward the elevator, silently reprimanding myself for my uncanny ability to read too much into everything. Kaworu didn’t seem to mind me as much as I did, though, because at every little display of awkwardness or general social ineptitude seemed to earn his gentle smile all the same, as if I were the most amazing person in the world to him. I could have been glorifying myself, or reading too deeply into the sympathies in his expression, but it didn’t seem so far-fetched given his track record of being overly gracious about those things.

“Well...here's my room.” I spoke again after a completely silent ride up to the apartment, bypassing the mess Misato left in the living room in favor of my bedroom, which I knew was clean. I made a mental note to straighten the rest of the house at some point when Kaworu was asleep, trying not to let it distract too much from the moment. I set my coat on the back of my desk chair and turned to face him without meeting his eyes. “I probably should’ve cleaned everything a little better," I brought it up anyway, despite having told myself not to. "...but um...y-you can just put your stuff by the bed, and...make...yourself comfortable, I guess...”

 _Jeez, I_ really _didn’t think this through very well_. I thought weakly to myself as another silent lull passed over us. I had previously felt so secure in all of the time I spent thinking of what to do and what to say.The last thing I expected was for all of that to go out of the window the moment he was in front of me. I couldn’t call to mind any of the things I had spent hours planning out, and floundered helplessly because of it. I turned away from him to avoid his piercing gaze and went over to the TV stand near my bed, crouching down and immediately rummaging through the various cases I had piled up.

“Let’s see...I have some video games, if you’re into that! Or we could watch a movie or something. I don't have a lot but I could show you my favorites...maybe listen to some music, or--”

I was cut off by the feeling of warmth pressing against and completely enveloping my back; in my hesitant ramblings I hadn’t heard Kaworu cross the room and come closer to me. I was completely taken aback when I felt his thin but surprisingly strong arms wrap around my waist and hold me in a steady grasp. I froze and my heart raced painfully in my chest, unsure of what to do or how to accept the feeling this unexpected gesture.

“K-Kaworu...?” I said with a quiet voice, swallowing hard and hoping that he couldn’t feel me shaking. “What are you doing?”

“I felt like this was the right thing to do. You seem nervous, and I thought you might need a hug.” he said quietly, resting his head on my shoulder and loosening his grip slightly. “Was I wrong?”

“U-uh...,” I didn’t know how to say what I really wanted to say, or even if I should. I was so used to being skeptical of or denying myself anything good that I had no idea how to admit that I liked it without feeling silly. “...n-no, you’re not wrong...I just...” I could feel him smiling against the crook of my neck and the way his breath tickled me there made it even more difficult to relax.

“...Well. In any case,” he pulled away and I was finally able to exhale, but at the same time I felt strangely cold without him there anymore. I turned around just as he had walked away from me to see him pulling off his jacket. “Little by little, I suppose....We could watch a movie, like you said.”

I'm not sure what he meant in saying "little by little", and for a moment I was transfixed with watching his shoulders roll as he stretched while pondering it. It wasn't until he turned around to face me again that I remembered myself, and breathed out a response. “Movie...oh! Right, movies...,” I said, still a little dazed for some reason. “What are you in the mood to watch? They're all pretty different from one another.”

“Hm...something...calm, I think. Maybe simple and sweet, with a little romance, if you have anything like that.”

“I think I do...,” I went back to rummaging for a moment, then pulled out a rather old DVD that I’d kept around for years. “This one’s actually my favorite, I think you’d like it too. Misato says it’s boring, and I guess it could seem that way to a lot of people, since it’s mostly conversations and stuff. I think it’s really relaxing, though! It helps me sleep sometimes, and the idea behind it is pretty cool...”

“That sounds perfect.” he said warmly and moved closer to me again with no warning. I inhaled sharply as he did, since he was only inches away now, and could feel a faint heat radiating from him again. He reached forward, and for a moment I thought he would hug me again and I readied myself for it. Instead he reached out for the movie, but his fingers slid over mine as he took it and I found that little touch was enough to produce the same effect. He didn’t seem to notice my reactions to these things (or just didn’t say anything about them) and idly glanced over the back cover of the DVD, reading the summary. “...Yes, I think this would wonderful. But first, if you wouldn’t mind, could you tell me where the restroom is? I didn’t have time to shower before I left this morning.”

“Oh, yeah! It’s down the hall, at the head of the stairs. Towels and stuff are in the closet, next to the sink. Oh, and during the winter it takes a little while for the water to get hot so just give it a minute or two.”

“Alright. I shouldn’t take long.” he added, and grabbed some clothes out of his bag to take to the bathroom.

Once he was gone, I groaned and buried my face in my hands, rubbing my cheeks as I tried to pull myself together. Even though there were so many things I wanted to do and say to let him know how much I was enjoying his company, I felt completely stifled even at the thought of trying. It was almost impossible to open myself up to him, which wasn’t too surprising since it had taken a year to make what little progress I had through messaging. I thought I would be used to it by the time he arrived, and that I’d be able to interact with him without fear or reservation. I knew I was enamored with him, but I wasn't prepared for how completely head over heels I would be while in his presence.I underestimated how calm and elegant he really was, and didn't realize the true depths of his voice when it wasn’t diluted by a bad microphone. I had no idea how much it would affect me each time he so much as brushed against me, or showed me a smile, even a small one. I liked him a lot more than I had been willing to admit to myself, and it was a lot easier to control that when separated by a computer screen.

 _Just pace yourself, Shinji._ I thought calmly, and moved away from the TV stand with steady and measured steps. _Relax and don’t try so hard. He seems to enjoy your company even in spite of your...everything, so don’t ruin that by being self-conscious. Don't ruin it by being yourself._

I repeated variations of this thought in my head like a mantra as I plodded downstairs. _Don't ruin it by being yourself._ Over and over on a loop, as this was the best encouragement I could give myself despite how it sounded. I went into the kitchen to busy myself with something, still following the mantra. I figured it might help relax me a little if I made some hot cocoa or something, since over the years I found that preparing things in the kitchen often helped ease my anxieties. I spent quite awhile with this task, meticulously preparing a thermos full enough for the both of us, and carefully carting it upstairs. This had certainly done it’s job in relaxing me, and I was feeling significantly more confident as I stepped back into my room.

I set the thermos aside, then began changing into some more casual clothes since I figured we wouldn’t be going anywhere else for the day. I took deep breaths: four counts in, four counts out, and my mind shifted closer to being still. I turned on my TV and got the movie ready, setting up some cushions for us to sit on as the DVD cycled through to the menu. By the time I sat down again,  Kaworu had come back in the room. His hair was still wet from the bath and he was toweling it off with one hand while he held his discarded clothes in the other.

“I have to say, you have a wonderful bathroom.” he mused with a little hum, stuffing his previous outfit into his bag and sinking down onto the cushion next to me. “I especially like the soap you have in there, it smells fantastic.”

It was then that I noticed a faint scent radiating from him, and it wasn’t anything like the soap I used. It was light and floral, like warm jasmine and ginger. It was still a vaguely familiar smell, and I even knew the bottle it was in because I had smelled it out of curiosity ages ago.

“I think you accidentally used Misato’s body wash,” I said with a little bit of a chuckle, but at the same time felt that the smell fit him well. “I forgot to tell you about it, sorry.”

“Oh well, that doesn’t matter to me. I hope she doesn't mind if I continue to use it, though. I've grown rather attached to it already.” he said casually, sliding further onto the cushion until he was lying on his side.

“I’m sure she won’t, she seems to like you a lot.” He smiled in a way that was almost knowing, as if it came as no surprise that she liked him. He seemed confident about it without arrogance, and I wondered how he was able to do that. How accustomed he must be to people liking him. For some reason, I thought back to the blushing waiter at the restaurant, and wondered how many people in his life back home had fallen for him in similar ways. How many customers he met that looked up at him speechlessly as he took their orders or gave some offhanded recommendation that they hadn't been expecting.

I found myself jealous of those people, just a little, despite never knowing if they even existed. I needed a distraction, so I cut across myself with "Anyway, we can start the movie whenever you’re ready."

He nodded contently as I pressed the play button on the remote, and the menu screen faded away. I hadn’t seen this movie in a long time, though there was a point when I watched it nearly every day. It was something I watched with my mother when she was around, and that played into why it affected me so much. It was about this group of spirits that worked to help people move onto the after life, helping them choose one memory to take with them for the rest of eternity. I was only a little kid when she first watched it with me, but even before I understood what the movie was about it always calmed me. The characters spoke so softly most of the time, and a lot of the shots were quiet portraits of a snowy landscapes or calm gardens. There was very little music or sound, save for the rustling of leaves or sound of birds chirping. Besides the movie itself, my mother always always had the most peaceful look on her face when she watched it with me. She would recite her favorite lines along with the characters on screen, and would always hug me close to her side and rock me gently until I fell asleep watching.

I had never seen the end of the movie, since I always dozed off just as the climax was about to happen.

After my mom died, I rediscovered the film when I was much older. I tried to watch it all the way through but found that I could never watch past that part, right when the climax was about to come. I would always feel something sharp in my chest and get short of breath, and the feeling wouldn’t go away until I turned it off because I was brought to tears. I did watch it many times after that, but had always instinctively turned it off before it reached that point, so I forgot over time how much it affected me. As I sat there watching it with Kaworu, the nostalgia that I felt gazing at the screen gradually bristled into panic with this realization.

I shifted in my seat as a painfully familiar scene flashed across the screen; a palette of stark white snow melting on dull, dark greys and greens. A girl was outside on a roof, and she was shuffling around in the snow in turbulent circles, growing steadily more agitated as the scene progressed and she vented her frustrations. My heart thudded heavily behind my ribs and I gripped anxiously at the hem of my shirt.

I looked over at Kaworu and saw that he was pleasantly unaware, enthralled by the movie thus far and enjoying himself too much to notice my fidgeting. I didn’t want to disturb him, or even indicate in any way that I was growing unbearably distressed, because I had no idea how to explain it to him and didn’t want to try. For a moment, I made a strict resolution that today would be the day I would finish the movie. I would swallow my fears and just enjoy it with him. I repeated to myself, _I can handle this. It’s just a movie. Nothing bad is going to happen._

_Don't ruin it by being yourself._

Over and over those words ran through my mind as the climax I had yet to overcome was rapidly approaching. I coughed and sipped my cocoa with shaking hands, telling myself that it would be fine even though everything in me screamed that it wouldn't. I was so close to pushing past it, so close to peering over the edge and coming out of it okay.

And as if in cue, like a dog with a shock collar, I lost control of myself right when the scene cut beyond what I had seen hundreds of times before. I looked down immediately, and noticed I was gripping at my arms and digging my nails in so deeply that I could feel the dull warmth of blood pooling under them. The audio was similar, and there was no real shift in what was happening yet, but I was terrified to witness anything beyond it. I had to stand up and turn my back toward the TV, nearly knocking over my cocoa with how quickly I shuffled to my bedroom door.

“Shinji? Where are you going?” Kaworu reacted, understandably, at what must have been a very unexpected reaction from me. I couldn’t see the expression on his face as I was already at the door and determined to keep him from seeing mine.

“J-just going to the bathroom,” I said quickly, my teeth chattering with agitation. My skin stung where I clawed at it, bleeding just beneath my sleeves, barely covered by my hands. “I’ll be right back, d-d-don’t worry, I’m...I-I’ll be right back.”

Before he could respond, I was already in the bathroom locking the door behind me. I leaned my head back and sank against it, whining with pointless anguish and gripping myself tightly. I fought the urge to scratch at my arms even more by just squeezing them until they bruised, but that still didn't calm me down. I felt like I was going to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come out. I could only gasp and heave and groan as I tried to will the dread away from my mind.

A few minutes later, I heard a knock on the door that made me flinch, even though it was slow and gentle.

“Shinji?” Kaworu called out quietly. I stayed completely still, trying to control my breathing and strengthen my wavering voice.

“Y-yeah?” I cleared my throat and tried to sound as steady as possible.

"Are you alright in there?"

“Y-yeah I’m fine! Don’t worry, I’ll be out i-in a second!”

“Shinji...” he said my name again, and though he was still speaking gently, there was worry in his voice. I cursed myself for being such a terrible liar. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I-it’s nothing, I promise! I’m...f--ine...” my voice cracked audibly and I could feel a twisted mass of sobs rising up in my throat.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he said, his voice sounding a little closer to the door, as if he had crouched down and was speaking into it. “Please, let me in.” And as he said that, I wasn’t wholly certain if he was just asking me to unlock the door or if he meant something deeper than that.

I stayed huddled on the floor, trembling and petrified. Part of me would have preferred to shrink away into nothing rather than let him see me like this, but a still greater part wanted to be in his arms again, to hear that soothing voice and cry all of my pain out until there was no more. I don't know how long I continued to sit there, listening to the sound of my own creaking bones and throbbing chest. He didn't make a sound, but I knew he was still there waiting for me. I can't explain how, but that helped me a tiny bit.

Eventually, I was able to move properly and I stood up. Though I was far from recovered, I slowly unlocked the door and pulled it open, my head low so that he wouldn't see my face. I felt his hand on my cheek and it was so warm it almost burned. Instinctively I shrank from his touch, but didn't move too far away. A few more moments passed and I was able to look up at him. He looked troubled and painfully earnest. It broke my heart to see him like that, especially when I knew that I was responsible for it.

He caught my gaze and stared unflinchingly into my eyes and this only terrified me more because it was more intimate than anything I had ever dealt with before. Seconds after, he moved closer and slid his arms around me yet again, just as I had hoped but was too afraid to ask for. I immediately curled up against him, pressing my arms to his chest and gripping his shirt desperately. I was still shaking as he held me, but he leaned his head against mine and shushed me quietly, moving a little from side to side and rocking me in his grasp. Immediately, the tears I couldn't seem to muster before were brought to my eyes because I suddenly thought of my mother, with her smiling face looking down at me. He spoke and told me everything would be okay, and this only intensified the feeling, which vibrated up my throat and practically choked me.

“I-I’m sorry, Kaworu...this whole time, the whole day I’ve been so weird, a-and distant, and...,” I stumbled over my words, trying to explain everything all at once even though I could hardly speak. He gripped me tighter but I couldn’t stop. “I don’t know why. I just wanted to enjoy this with you, t-that’s all...M-my mom, she was always there, and she always made me feel safe when I watched it a-and I thought I could handle it this time, I really did...I just wanted to share this with you and I didn’t mean...I d-didn’t want to be like this...I’m sorry...”

I had no idea if I was making any sense at all to him, but even if I wasn’t he didn’t convey any kind of confusion or apprehension. He just kept rocking me and telling me, “I know. It’s okay, don’t worry.” over and over until I was able to catch my breath. My heart stopped pounding so hard, and my grip on Kaworu’s shirt loosened while I pulled away just enough to look up at him.

“H-heh... the second time I’ve freaked out on you in one day. Th-that's...probably a world record, haha...I’ve really gotta pull it together...,” I said, chuckling a little sadly as I sniffed and ducked my head again, unable to bring myself to take my hands away from his chest just yet. “I'm sorry about all of this. I really didn’t mean for things to happen this way.”

“You know, most people only say sorry when they’ve made a mistake,” he said gently, and nudged my chin up so that he could stare into my eyes again. “You’ve apologized a lot today, but I can’t think of one thing you’ve done wrong so far.”

Color flooded my cheeks at his words and I was speechless, since my immediate response to things like that was usually to apologize again.

“This is what I’m here for, Shinji, to help you feel better when these things happen.” He continued in lieu of my silence, bringing his hands up to rest against mine on his chest. “I _want_ to help you. Your tears are nothing to be ashamed of, and so long as I am able I will always be here to wipe them away." He squeezed my hands and threaded his fingers through mine. "Okay?"

“O-okay...” I said sincerely, unable to come up with an argument to it, and thankful for that. "Thank you, Kaworu." I was even able to bring myself to smile a little when I said that, as if it helped me to believe what he said was true. He did so as well, and for some reason, my eyes fell on his lips. I focused on they way one corner curved up just a little higher than the other, and though they were pursed together in a fairly thin line, they still looked soft and...inviting. When he spoke again, I wasn’t listening at all to what he said, just mesmerized by the sound of his voice and the flexing of muscles around his mouth as it opened and closed around each word. I must have been staring, because he tilted his head to look at me and say my name, which made me snap back suddenly and meet his eyes again.

“I said if you’d like, we could go back and watch a different movie. Or maybe talk some more, if you need to.”

“Oh...um...yeah, I’d...like to watch a different movie, maybe,” I said, now completely avoiding his face for fear of being caught by his lips again, though my smile still hadn’t faded. “We can finish the other one some other time.”

He guided me back to my room gracefully, which I still kind of needed to walk at a steady pace. We watched several other movies after that, mostly lighthearted romantic comedies that distracted me enough from the first one. By the time I checked the clock again, it was midnight; we had spent hours laughing and talking, and I had long since calmed down from my panic attack with Kaworu’s help. He stayed close to me the entire time, urging me to lean on his shoulder and gently tracing his fingers against my scalp. It was far too soothing, and after several hours of it I was practically asleep. I told him so and he let go of me so I could get up to move over to my closet. I pulled out a futon and spread it on the floor next to my bed, smoothing it over while I went back to get a blanket.

Kaworu stretched out languidly on the soft cushion, and when I looked over at him I noticed that his feet extended over the edge by a few inches. I felt bad and knelt next to him, setting the blanket down.

“Oh man, I didn't think about it, but I’ve had this futon for a pretty long time and I guess it’s a little small...” I reached over to spread the blanket out around him, a bit of guilt pressing into my chest as I did so. “If you want, I could take it since I'm shorter than you anyway, and you could sleep in my bed instead.”

“I would never ask you to do that, Shinji. Far be it from me to have you sleep on the floor in your own room.” he said warmly, his eyes closed and his smile widening a little as I fixed the blanket at his side.

“Well yeah but, you’re my guest. I want you to be comfortable.”

“If that’s so, then perhaps we could both sleep down here,” he said lowly, and I noticed he had opened his eyes just a bit to look at me. “I can’t think of anything more comfortable than that.”

“U-uhm!" My muscles seized up at the thought, and an almost painful blush washed over my face as I pulled back from him. "T-there’s...p-probably not enough room, y’know, and...I-I tend to kinda move around a lot...s-so...”

He laughed at my suitably flustered reaction and pulled the covers over himself, “Relax, I’m only kidding. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes playfully, pushing up off of my knees and moving to turn the light off. Once I had climbed in bed, he hummed from his spot on the floor and muttered a gentle good night, shifting around for a bit before going silent.

* * *

  
The next day I woke up and immediately peeked over the side of my bed to see that Kaworu was still fast asleep. His arms were spread out a little around his head and his hair covered the pillow in soft, messy curls. He looked so peaceful, and with the way the sun streamed in from the window, his skin seemed to glow in the faint orange light. I crept out of bed as quietly as possible and decided to cook breakfast for us, taking the time to gather myself a little and mentally prepare for the day ahead. I was determined not to have a repeat of yesterday, and figured the best way to do that was to form a game plan to keep me focused.

I had my headphones in while happily buzzing my way around the kitchen, grilling scallops and boiling rice and hardly noticing how openly I displayed my happiness. I thought over the fact that I still had _four_ _whole_ _days_ to spend with Kaworu, and that was enough to make me embarrassingly giddy. I was thankful to be the only one awake at the moment, so I could get the worst of it out of my system without worrying about looking silly. While cooking, I also set about straightening up the living room and hallways, removing greater part of Misato's daily mess to make the place more presentable. Once I had finished with my chores, I brought two plates of food back up to my room and sat quietly next to the futon where Kaworu still slept. As I leaned over him and reached for his shoulder, his eyes flew open and he blinked for a moment before quickly turning his head as if he were startled. Upon seeing me, though, he recovered so quickly that I wondered if I had only imagined it.

“Mmh, good morning," he groaned in a delightfully weary voice, smiling and squeezing his eyes shut as he stretched out. He then caught a whiff of the food by the futon and sat up, grinning at the plate I held out to him.

"Good morning, Kaworu." I said with a wide smile, setting the plate in his lap once he had pulled his covers aside.

“You’re spoiling me, Shinji. I won’t ever leave if you keep this up."

“That’s the plan," I said cheerfully, picking up my own plate once he took the one I held out to him. “After breakfast we have to get dressed okay? There’s a lot of stuff I want to show you and I want to make sure we have time to see it all."

He seemed pleasantly surprised by my enthusiasm, but nodded in agreement, his hair tumbling over his face in untamed waves as he hummed over his food. He made sure to compliment me with every bite, whether explicitly with words or just the satisfied sounds he made, and I couldn't stop myself from swelling with pride. We both dressed quickly once we had finished eating, and I tumbled downstairs just as Misato as she was getting ready for work. She still had her toothbrush in her mouth while buttoning her coat, so she hardly had time to respond by the time we were out the door.

Kaworu and I walked to the train station upon leaving the apartment complex, and from there our day really started. I had every intention of paying for everything myself with the money I had saved up from my allowance, but Kaworu beat me to the gesture everywhere we went. It kind of seemed like he was more eager to buy things for me than for himself, and that ruined my attempt at showing off as much as I wanted to. Even still, he seemed completely taken with everything I showed him peering about with excited awe like a fresh-minded tourist. He mentioned once or twice how overwhelming it was to see so many new things, since he his town was much smaller and had far fewer people than Tokyo.  He lingered happily on every interesting trinket we found (even the crappier stuff from street corner gachapon machines) and instantly bought whatever held his interest long enough to hand it over to me as a gift. I didn’t want to accept any of it at first, but he continued to insist and I just couldn’t say no to him. After several hours of wandering around the major shopping districts, our arms were heavily laden with various books, games, and obnoxious stuffed animals. I hadn't expected to leave with so much stuff, and had to clutch awkwardly to whatever wouldn't fit in my coat pockets or the shopping bags we picked up. It was quite a chore to lug it all to a small food stand where we had decided to have lunch, but it was worth it to share a hot meal and decompress after the long day we'd had.

We didn’t return home until well after the sun started to set, and the train ride was incredibly peaceful. We were worn out but happy, and spent the entire ride sharing my headphones while I showed him my music. I was too embarrassed to lean on his shoulder even though I wanted to, so I contented myself with sitting close enough to rest my arm his. He took my hint and tugged idly at the stray yarn of my mittens, gazing blissfully out the window at the warm sky, humming along to the songs we listened to.

When we got home, I saw that Misato had left a phone message saying that she would be working late and meeting up with some friends, so not to wait up for her. I was starting to think that she was avoiding the house on purpose to give Kaworu and I time to enjoy each other’s company. Whether or not that was the case, I appreciated it all the same.

“Here, I’ll take those.” he said and grabbed the bags I had left on the ground while listening to the answering machine. “I’m going to take a bath for a little while, okay?”

“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll probably start cooking in the meantime.” I said while cycling through and deleting older messages, tossing my jacket over a chair. I pulled a few things out of the fridge and started cooking while he headed upstairs, putting my headphones back in again and rewinding the tape in my cassette player. I was pretty intently focused on what I was doing, until I dropped something on the floor and noticed that one of the larger Marimokkori dolls Kaworu had bought was still lying limply against a chair. I shook my head with a little smile and picked it up, dashing toward my room to quickly put it away.

As I approached the top of the stairs, I noticed that the bathroom door was cracked slightly. I didn’t think much of it, and figured Kaworu hadn't realized that it wasn't closed all the way before he ran his bath. I moved up to it and just as I reached out for the knob with my free hand, I offhandedly glanced through the opening. It was only for a split second at first, but after what I saw, I was forced to do a sudden double-take.

Kaworu was lounging in the tub, stretched out languidly with one arm draped over the side, and positioned so that his back was turned toward the door. I could see the reflection of his face in the mirror, and even through the thin fog that covered the glass I could clearly make out the expression on his face that made me freeze in place; his eyes were closed, and slack, open smile sat on his parted lips. I couldn’t quite make out what he was doing at first, but when I saw the way his shoulders rolled against the back of the tub and heard low sighs escaping him, I noticed that I couldn't see his other hand, and the water rippled in steady waves from his subtle but incessant movements.

I swallowed hard and held my breath for fear that he might hear me, clasping one hand over my face while the other maintained a firm grip on the stuffed toy I was still holding. An urgent and immediate sensation shot it’s way down my middle and rippled through the pit of my stomach, and I would have fallen to my knees had I not been frozen in place.

I have no idea how long I would have stood there--or how long I had _already_  been standing there--watching him with confusion and undeniable interest. When he bit his lip, I bit mine, and when his frame shook with an erratic spasm of muscles, my stomach tightened further and I was lost in the way his face twisted up in wanton bliss. I could have watched him for hours had it not been for the fact that he tilted his head back with the greatest of these spasms and exhaled a wonderful moan, and in that moment I could have sworn that I saw his eyes flutter open and settle on me. Though they were heavily lidded, I saw slivers of bright red irises pointed in my direction and I caught some unspoken aura from that look, as if he were saying to me, _Do you like what you see?_

It happened so briefly that I probably imagined it. I'm almost certain I imagined it, but it was still enough to terrify me into fleeing toward my room as noiselessly as possible until I could flop onto the bed and stare at the floor with complete and utter disbelief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the movie i referenced in this chapter is called "After Life" by Hirokazu Koreeda


	5. Raison D'être

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all needed me. However misguided or wrong that need was, it taught me that my existence only meant something if I was useful to someone. I clung to that philosophy as a way to explain how I was treated by the people around me, and it protected me for a long time.

I started learning from a very young age, as I grew up and began to figure out the world and myself, that I had a very high threshold for pain and almost saintly tolerance for the vast majority of human errors. I say this not to sing my own praises, merely to state a fact. The one, undeniable truth that governed how I lived with myself and the circumstances that befell me.

When the other boys at school decided they didn’t like me for whatever reason, and came at me with violence, I was surprisingly unaffected. It is common for children to recoil from pain, but I accepted it as naturally as one accepts the changing of weather. I thought that was just how kids were to each other, and I got used to it in time. I was intuitive enough that I could sense the fear and confusion beneath their anger. I felt sorry for them, and loved them for their weakness. I let them use me to vent whatever frustrations they held, for I recognized that my tolerance was a gift.

As I grew a little older and started to develop, their attentions changed, but never seemed to lessen. They noticed my voice and my features were softer than most, and something about that made their violence more insidious and difficult to comprehend. At the time I had no idea what it was...how could I? Puberty is a mystery without someone patient enough to guide you through it, and young men house a peculiar sort of affliction that makes them rash and hungry when hormones reach a fever pitch. I only knew of sex from allusions in movies and songs, as in my purity I didn't engage in their schoolyard gawking over stolen magazines and tapes.

I had no idea what to call this new attention, I just knew that I preferred it to the painful pranks and locker room beatings even in spite of the creeping distaste I felt for the way they discarded me afterward. For those short, anxious moments that they used me, I received something I had never gotten from anyone. Like everything else in life, it had it's good side and it's bad side; it simultaneously emptied and filled an void in me that I learned to live with. Whether I wanted to or not, I developed a reputation among them, and I accepted my role as it was presented to me. Word travels quickly through schools in small towns, and I was approached often under nicknames I had never heard but could glean the meaning of just by the way they were said to me. Some of those boys were secretive and earnest with me, and confessed things in those heated moments that they were too proud to say to anyone else. I was able to smile and tell within a few moments exactly how they needed to be loved, and love them accordingly. Even if they couldn't comprehend or appreciate it, I loved them all. Even when it was uncomfortable, even painful. Even when it got too violent sometimes, and I heard the dreadful things they said to me from other's mouths, I loved them. It was just a new way to vent their frustrations--poor souls--one that just so happened to feel a lot better than what I had gotten used to.

They all needed me. However misguided or wrong that need was, it taught me that my existence only meant something if I was useful to someone. I clung to that philosophy as a way to explain how I was treated by the people around me, and it protected me for a long time.

There were other things I learned to take in stride, in my own peculiar way. Take, for instance, when my sister ran away from home. Well, were only half-related, with different mothers. Even still, Rei was the one person I felt closest to, and I was able to let her go almost seamlessly when she disappeared. I wasn't sad about it at all, because she seemed so unhappy with her life, and I believed she might find her peace elsewhere. She even kept in touch with me constantly after she left, so I never had to miss her anyway. I received a letter from her almost every other day, and they were filled with the most interesting stories; she had made her way to Tokyo, and told me not only of her travels, but much more personal things that she never would have said in person. Secrets she had kept from our parents and me, like how she truly sad she was, and things our father did to her. It was all so vivid, and in hindsight I realized it must have pained her greatly to put those things into words. At the time, in my naivete, I misunderstood her descriptions as positive things. After all, the boys at school did many of the same things to me, and I felt that perhaps we were similar in our purpose as vessels for weaker souls to use for their comfort. The next letter she wrote in reply to that one was covered in nothing but tears and the words "I'm sorry" written over and over again. I read the pain in her scribbled words, but couldn't feel it myself. I couldn't connect her confession and mine to the sadness that drove her away, because it meant something different to me. I was incapable of accepting pain as it was; I always justified it into something else that was more pleasant to deal with.

I did realize, however, that this wasn't something I could so easily discuss with anyone else for several reasons, so she became my only confidant. It relieved some unknown pressure in me, to tell her candidly the things that happened and the confusing feelings I had about them. She was the only one who explained it all to me in a way that I could understand. She even sent me manga and shunga prints that I couldn’t seek out so easily in Takayama; stories that either paralleled my experience, or contained fantastic and wild images that catered to it. She told me never to let our parents find them, and I didn’t understand why so I never hid them very well. I pored over these fantastic images, partly to enjoy their beauty as art in their own right, but for other obvious reasons that satisfied my still roiling hormones.

When my mother found one of the more graphic volumes shoved into my futon, she told my father about it with tearful horror. He beat my that day for what must have been the first time, but the feeling was familiar at that point from my school experiences. He called me words I heard often at school but still didn't know the true meaning of, even though I caught the gist fairly easily. The message was mixed and very confusing for me, but I still loved him because he had that same pain in his eyes as the boys I loved, and I knew he couldn’t help it. That was his way of expressing that pain, and I was fine with that, even though it tugged at the void in me a little more than I was used to.

It was almost a relief when I was thrown out, since it meant I didn’t have to try and hide anymore. My "uncle" Kozo (a family friend of no blood relation) took me in when it happened, without asking any questions at first. He called my mother even though I sincerely requested that he didn't, and came to me afterward to tell me that he knew everything. Naturally, I was worried that he would react the same way my father did, but all told me was that he saw me no differently. I will never forget the way he said it, smiling sadly all the while. He often told me to "just be careful", and "try to find happiness however I could". I had skipped a lot of school in that time, and for a while he tried to get me back in. I was far too lofty and disinterested to make any use of it, though, and eventually I stopped going altogether. I was hardly older than twelve at that point, but expressed an interest in working. I knew that he owned a teahouse in town, and decided that I would be much more useful working for him in his shop than going to middle school. He agreed with some hesitation, even if just so I would have something to occupy my time.

I blossomed in that environment, and was very good at the job in a fairly short time. Interacting with people had always come second nature, and I found that I had a certain charm that enchanted most with very little effort. My patience and talents, tirelessly cultivated from my time in school, were incredibly useful for customer service. I knew exactly what to say to calm even the most troublesome patron. I could conjure up the most sincere smile whenever necessary, and attend to any customer as if they were the most important person in the world. I thrived off of the compliments I received, and while I humbly declined their tips and favors for awhile, they became more insistent until I could no longer refuse. I am only human, after all, and I enjoyed the validation much like a cut flower enjoys sugar in its water.

I learned all that I could about my work in an effort to be as perfect as I could be: proper brewing methods, ideal combinations of flavor, where and how to find and discern the finest ingredients and make full use of them, and other extraneous things far beyond what a common barista might be expected to know. My coworkers found it incredibly odd, and I noticed a few of them looked at me with envious distaste. Many times Uncle Kozo told me that I didn’t have to work so hard for the shop, but I insisted that I wanted to all I could to be a good employee.That wasn't entirely true, as I was mostly doing it for my own satisfaction and desire for worth. I neither wanted nor expected any sort of special treatment for my efforts, but he still ended up giving me a promotion and a raise. This was unecessary, but still important, because it allowed me to save up enough money for my own apartment in less than a year. I found that I enjoyed living alone, as I never had before in my life. Though living with Kozo was relatively stress-free, there was a peace that came with the silence of an empty apartment. I felt that I belonged there, in the quiet darkness. Like being alone was my fate, my true home. I told myself that it was simply a thirst for independence, but it was probably more a masochistic desire for isolation. An escape from the pressures of ensuring that I was always useful to others, where I could disappear and cease to exist for a few hours before stepping into the world again.

No one, not even Kozo, had any reason to think I was anything but perfectly content, if not just a little strange. While that wasn’t a _completely_  untrue, for as long as I cared to remember (possibly the moment I realized everyone's love for me was conditional), the best way I could think to describe the way I always felt was...dead. I smiled and exuded light for those that surrounded me, but inside I was entirely barren. When I wasn’t occupying myself with tasks that made me at least temporarily useful to others, I felt like a ghost drifting just on the edge of what was and wasn’t real, and I had gotten so used to it that I could almost laugh about it. I was becoming the void inside of me, and I couldn't decide if that was comforting or terrifying to know.

There were times when I needed to remind myself that I was, in fact, a living and breathing creature. I dared to confront my mortality out of spontaneous curiosity during those dark hours I spent alone in my apartment. I always found myself standing before the cracked and dingy bathroom mirror, staring at my face and trying to comprehend it. There was a disconnect between me, and the fact that I could look _at me_ in something else. The concept of gazing into my own eyes _with_ those very eyes, and trying to understand that the entirety of my soul and mental being existed within the form that I saw never seemed to take root in me as a simple fact. I would spend hours like this. Hours and hours. Sometimes with nothing but the street light pouring in from the main room, barely illuminating anything beyond it, but enough so that my vision would adjust and I could make out the vague shape of myself.

Though it happened very gradually, Rei stopped writing me. I sent her letters every few weeks just to ask how she was doing and tell her how I was, but there was no longer any reply. I didn't bother to look into or dedicate any thought toward what may have happened to her, I just figured she had outgrown me, and that was okay. I no longer had any way to vent my true thoughts and emotions, but that was...that was perfectly okay. I had to dedicate my energy to being okay with that, I had none to spare for worrying about her. I couldn't let my smile falter outside, not even for a second. I couldn't be useful if I let negativity overcome me, so I simply let it pass through me. It was all okay and fine.

In order to ensure that everything stayed okay and fine, I had to completely disconnect, of course. So that's what I did.

My meditative moments in front of the mirror seemed as cracked as the mirror itself. What was already difficult to comprehend became impossible to fathom, and sometimes I had to touch myself just to watch me doing it and remain grounded to what I saw. I had to feel my fingers on my cheek, stroking it, to know that my face was mine. I had to tug at my hair and feel the pain of it to register that it was connected to my head, and thus mine. I had to pull it out and look at it in my fingers, severed follicles and all, to compare to what remained in my scalp. The next thing I knew, there was a sharp pain in my hand and I would look down at it again to find that my knuckles were raw and bleeding. I’d glance back up at the mirror to see that the crack in it had grown larger, then look at my hand once more and stare at my reflection through a reflective shard that had found its way between my fingers.

In the time it took for me to process that, I was slumped over the toilet, or sitting on the floor, or curled up in the tub. The shard in my hand would be dripping red, and my vision would quiver go fuzzy around the edges. A familiar sensation of warmth would draw my gaze down to my thigh and I would watch the weeping cuts drain the color from my skin. No matter how many times I watched this happen, it was difficult to comprehend that it was happening to me, that it was part of my body. I could feel a bit of pain, but the only reaction I could muster as I faded was a quiet “Oh.” as if to say to myself, _That’s right. This is me. I’m human, and this is my body. I'm human, and I’m bleeding._

I would feel very tired, and relax against the nearest flat surface to wait to see what happened.

After the third time, I learned that it took about four minutes (give or take) before I completely lost consciousness.

After the second time, I started waking up in the hospital. Previously, I would just come to in the tub enough to feel around for the first aid kit and clean up the mess as best as I could. So I was reasonable confused to wake up in the hospital, knowing how difficult it was just to get the first aid kit. I would sit patiently and assess my surroundings, the steady beep of the heart monitor keeping me grounded in reality. Looking through the window beside my room, I would see a frazzled but familiar woman talking to the doctor, rushing in the moment she sees that I'm awake. I recognized her as my next door neighbor, a nice young lady that always said good morning and good evening to me when she saw me. She asked the most inane questions when I felt least willing to answer, but of course I always did, because that is what I do.

She would rush up to my bed before I could sit up and clutch my hand tightly. She'd explain with tears in her eyes how glad she was that I was alright, and I would give her a weary and grateful smile that pained me to muster. Through her sobs she would tell to me how she heard glass shattering again and something heavy hit the floor, and how she hoped and prayed that it wasn’t me again. I would watch her with disinterest (even a little irritation, but hidden in my eyes) while thanking her through my mechanical smile.

I had to become more aware of my actions and stop myself from these "mortal explorations" as I called them, because she had taken it upon herself to check on me everyday after the third time being released from the hospital. I was too courteous to turn her away, and knew that she was the type that needed her kindness to be rewarded. She was truly a sweet girl, quite a bit older than me and living on her own as well. I think she was in college, studying to be a designer, or a teacher maybe, something like that. I’m sure she had told me exactly what, but I didn’t care enough to really listen, even though I was fairly skilled at making her think I did.

I knew that her feelings for me went far beyond neighborly concern and the goodness of her heart. She was hopelessly in love with me, the poor girl, and probably had been long before she shoehorned herself into my personal life. I entertained her a few times, testing to see if I could make myself interested, even if only because things would have been easier that way. Maybe I felt like I owed her something, or I had too much sympathy for her. Perhaps it was because she was easy, and she needed me, and I just needed to vent. Something sick and selfish like that.

Maybe I was just trying to do what my mother and father had always wanted and finally settle with a girl and live a happy, normal life. I thought I might even be able to see them again in some tearful reunion years later, with my beautiful fiancee clinging to my arm as I delivered the happy news that we were getting married, and she was having a baby. They would hug me and kiss me and all would be well and forgiven and we could live happily ever after.

That would’ve been nice, I thought, and it’s too bad I could only pretend for so long. Honestly, she didn’t deserve the kind of heartache that I put her through. She really shouldn't have dedicated her thoughts and energy to someone as detached as me. She pushed herself so close to me that it was almost inevitable for her to find out what I truly was: a vacuous, insatiable black hole, perpetually empty and always seeking fulfillment in whatever floated toward me. Even though I was averse to her body out of my own preference, I still consumed her selfishly and carnally, and the time came when not even she was satisfied with what little I gave her. When she confronted me about it, I lazily blamed mys disinterest in her on youthful capriciousness, reminding her that I was only fourteen and I couldn’t be expected to maintain a healthy relationship. That may have struck a raw nerve, perhaps some guilt over what she had done, technically as my elder. I didn't mean to do that, and could have probably taken it back and argued that I knew infinitely more about human weakness than she ever could.

We had that conversation more than once, and it always ended the same way. She would tell me not to blame her, and wish she had never fallen for me. I would apologize, and extend just enough warmth to keep her close because I couldn't be alone and useless just yet. She would tell me to get better, and I would say okay. We would make love again and I would be the twenty-something year old soul she wished so desperately for me to be. She would treat me like her pet project for a few months, I would lose interest again, and the snake would continue to consume its own tail.

She stood before me and cried for what had to have been, by my count, the thirteenth time. I paid attention to that because she was very beautiful when she cried, and I would always wish I had a camera so that I could take her picture. She tried to make things work and stay with me after that, but she was considerably more tired by then. She finally realized that I was broken, and I realized there was nothing more I could do to help her, so we both gave up. All I could do was smile at her and kiss her and tell her I was sorry.

When she told me she was leaving to study abroad, I was genuinely happy for her. I wished her the best, and expressed that I sincerely hoped she would find love in someone that deserved her. I let her go with that, wondering if she realized that it was the only completely honest thing I had ever said to her.

Even though I had been waiting for her to leave, I still needed someone else to invest myself in. I still had work of course, but that wasn't enough anymore. I several flings here and there, always with some pitiful new soul that decided they wanted me for some small period of time. They usually lasted no longer than a night, because boys will always be boys. I loved them for their weakness, and for all of the mercy and affection I claimed to show them, I knew deep down that I was just satisfying my own need to mean something... _anything_ , to anyone at all. It was always temporary, and even with different faces it all began to feel the same. It lost its novelty, and I needed something else after very little time.

While discussing my boredom with a coworker (not in detail, if course), I was given an offhanded suggestion to join a club. Specifically, he suggested a Suicide Club, with a rather wicked chuckle that probably signaled some ill-mannered jab at my secret morbidity. I took his suggestion to heart because it sounded interesting, and decided to invest in a computer and a router to broaden my horizons and find something new.

It wasn’t long until a dedicated string of web searches brought me to that forum, filled with discourses and confessions and desperate entreaties expressing desires for death in the most raw, non-cautionary ways I had ever seen. I didn’t know such a thing could really exist, or that there were others in the world who shared my untamed curiosity in these topics. Hundreds of thousands of people were pouring their hearts and souls onto a page for everyone to see, protected by the veil of anonymity which rid them of any inhibitions they may have had otherwise. I was immediately enthralled, and began to contribute my own cyclical thoughts and philosophies into the ocean that  stretched before me. It fed that voracious curiosity within me while satisfying the voyeur in me that craved other people's troubles. I was able to offer little bits of help to hundreds of random strangers in a matter of minutes, and each little ping was a quick climax in my endless need to be useful.

And then, by some rare mercy of providence or cruel joke of fate, I met Shinji.

I can’t accurately identify what it was about him that was so different from everyone else. He initially caught my attention with the fact that he read and bookmarked every single post I wrote. It showed an endearing dedication that stroked my ego quite a bit, enough that he was one of the few I singled out for private conversation. The fact that he had never made any posts of his own only intensified my curiosity, as I needed something by which to gauge what needs of his I could fill. In fact, it seemed as if he were a blank slate: a complete mystery in his inability or unwillingness to put anything even remotely personal about himself on the public forum. I was able to conclude that he must have been more of a listener by briefly browsing his favorites, which consisted of the more heartfelt and drawn out entries from others along with my own.

I reached out to him candidly, as I had often made a habit of doing to people who caught my attention for longer than a moment. My motives were simple and selfish: to find and devour their reason to be until I could think of nothing else to say and bid them farewell. Perhaps that was cold of me, but I felt it was better than pretending to care any longer than I actually did. I would offer them my love and my shoulder as long as I felt necessary, and let them go once I had outlived my usefulness. I would not take it upon myself to try and save anyone who had decided their own fate. I was very well aware of how annoying that could be.

Shinji was different, though. He seemed more interested in me (not the physical me, but my thoughts and feelings) than I was accustomed to. Most people were so self-absorbed that they really only wanted to vent to whoever would listen. Either that, or they were only interested in my figure and tried to get to know me as a means to an end. Even when I gave Shinji ample and obvious opportunity to rest the weight of his pain upon me, he almost always declined. When he did confess some small truth about himself, he would always try to cover it up as if it had been a mistake. I then tried to learn his thoughts, which were so genuine and pure that I found them hopelessly charming. I figured out that he was secretive out of self-consciousness, and that I had to take a more delicate approach. I decided I would give him all I could of me, which I knew he wanted but would never ask for, hoping that might open the floor for him to reciprocate.

It didn’t go at all the way I had planned. He consumed everything I gave him, and called me things like “wonderful” and “perfect” and “kind”. These were words I had heard before, but the way he communicated them carried such simple honesty that they seemed completely foreign. He wanted me, but not because he wanted to use me...indeed it was likely he felt that he couldn't have me, or perhaps didn’t deserve. That made him even more precious in my eyes, and I could say that I fell for him even then without realizing it.

On the day that I finally saw his face, it was far too late to recover from what he had done to me. The feeling came rushing into me so quickly that I couldn’t speak. He had effectively stolen my breath from me, and for the first time I couldn't find my mask to keep charming him. It wasn’t just that he was beautiful (and oh, was he _beautiful_ ), but as he was simple, and genuinely sweet. As I grew accustomed to the sight of him, I came to adore his more subtle nuances habits and tells. I adored the way his eyes darted about whenever he explained something in depth. It never failed to amuse me that, whenever I complimented him, he had to look away from me and I could tell he was always trying to cover his smile. When he got excited, his face would become bright and he would exclaim with uncut enthusiasm, then promptly reel back and cough (once, then pause, then twice in quick succession) after he caught himself doing it. If I were paid each and every time he apologized for his own behavior out of embarrassment, I would have been able to buy us both a home in some foreign country and we could live off of that money until our dying days. But those things are all what inevitably made me fall deeply and truly in love with him.

Of course I had to see him. It seemed the most natural step, and I had some other reasons for wanting to see Tokyo when I found out that he lived there. Relatively soon after I had made it my personal goal to visit him, it was not only possible but he agreed to it with refreshing enthusiasm. When I arrived, I found that I had a slightly more difficult time of maintaining my composure than usual with him. He always did that to me to some degree, but there were moments when I was overcome with his presence and couldn't hold back my affections, even though they made him skittish. I knew he liked it, but I had to ease him into it. He was a delicate thing, and I didn't want to overwhelm him too much.

I found myself falling into some old habits, like charming the waiter at this quaint restaurant my first night there, and made a note to be more mindful of it through the visit. His guardian was a lively and vivacious woman, not unlike many I had enjoyed the company of, but I found it refreshing that she didn't fall head over heels for me right away. She was very guarded as well, but carried herself with a beautiful sort of strength that earned my respect. She had her weaknesses too, but I couldn't give myself to her when I had my Shinji to care for. In any case, she seemed to leave us alone quite often, and that allowed me to operate without distraction. I took my usual role with Shinji as the initiator of affection and the comfort to his wounds, which made that easier to maintain myself. Ss long as I was able to be useful to him and only him, I was happy and at ease. Many of the things I did came from that intuitive sense I had, that he wanted me to love him. It usually turned out to be true, and that he was simply too shy to tell me himself. I never pressured him, and would only guide him as far as he was willing to go, since the purpose for it all was his comfort and happiness.

I wanted to tell him exactly how I felt, but fear of frightening him kept me from doing so. I tried to communicate it with my smile and my touch, and maybe he understood to some extent, but there was still some hesitation from him. There was no way I could make him understand how important that love was to me, how different it was from the love that I had for everyone else. I couldn't tell him that I was born to meet him, that my entire life was formed as it was just so I could serve him with every ounce of my being. I don't think he was capable of seeing himself as I did, and it was a struggle to help him accept even the most basic strengths that he possessed. I felt so differently than he did about himself that, at times, I couldn't understand the way he spurned my affections or reacted to simple things. I felt that he was denying me, or maybe he was denying himself the knowledge of having me...it was hard to tell. I would have been fine with either, but the uncertainty made it difficult to bear.

After a roller coaster of a first night, during which my usefulness was sorely tested, things smoothed themselves out and were considerably more lighthearted. While he showed me around the city, I noticed for the first time since we met that he was completely relaxed and content. I developed a new appreciation for his laughter, which I had only heard a few times before then, and never so unrestrained. It was a pleasant and welcome change from the guarded hesitation that usually clouded his eyes, and I did all that I could to keep it going.

While we rode the train home, the warmth I felt from that particularly beautiful sunset paled in comparison to the feeling of him sitting so close to me. I knew he was still holding back, and I wished he would move closer, but said nothing since we were in public. I felt his hand--how delicate it was--slide close enough to barely touch mine. I kept my gaze fixed on the shifting landscape outside of the window, but couldn’t contain my smile. I slid my fingers over his and held them a little more tightly, feeling a tremble run through him though still he moved imperceptibly closer.

I was made aware of my heart quickening slightly, pushing every drop of blood through my body to converge on a singular point. I cursed my luck silently, and crossed my legs as casually as possible in an attempt to conceal the increasingly visible frustration between them. Even though I felt it might be wise to pull away from him for the time being, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I tortured myself for all intents and purposes; biting my own lip with agitation in lieu of kissing him as I was aching to do, letting my mind swim with all manner of intrusive thoughts until the moment we entered his apartment.

At the first available opportunity, I gathered up the trinkets accumulated over the course of the day and went upstairs to clear my head with a bath. I didn’t want to put Shinji in an uncomfortable situation by making him victim to my pubescent desires...he was to be handled gently, and I adored him too much to take a risk like that. Things were already wonderful the way they were, and I would have preferred they stay that way than be irrevocably damaged somehow. 

I walked away from him calmly as he stayed in the kitchen, maintaining my leisurely pace until I reached the top of the stairs. Once there, I ducked into his room just long enough to place the bags and stuffed toys on the bed, before disappearing into the bathroom shortly after. I didn’t bother to bring a change of clothes with me and had already started peeling off what I was wearing as I nudged the door closed with my foot. I turned the faucet and undressed impatiently, seemingly unable to get out of my clothes quickly enough.

As soon as I was able and the tub was warm and full, I gingerly stepped into the water and leaned back against the edge. It was perfect for soothing my aching muscles, which I didn't realize were held tense throughout the entire return trip. I sighed and stared wearily up at the ceiling, focusing on the pattern in the tiles in an effort to still my disjointed thoughts. For a moment, I thought my roused feelings might dissipate on their own, and contented myself with eventually closing my eyes and sliding farther under the water.

Of course, the instant I felt I could truly relax, my imagination plagued me with fantasies I couldn't control. I grinned in spite of myself, not surprised that they came to me but thankful that I had the time to relieve myself in private. Shinji’s face haunted me in a myriad of different way; his eyes glazed and that soft bottom lip of his pulled between his teeth amidst a dreamy and distracted stare, eyeing me with that expression I was sometimes lucky enough to catch on his face.

I slid up a little and rested the crook of my neck against the edge of the tub, my hands lingering tentatively around my stomach and tracing idle circles in the soft scar tissue along my abdomen and inner thigh.

I remembered the feeling from last night when I held him; of his hands pressed against my chest and gripping my shirt, his body warm and flush against me. My hand trailed lower and ghosted along my thigh as I fantasized about his lips against mine, how shy and eager they might be. I conjured up the sound of his sighs, imagined him lying beneath me and reaching up to touch my face, saying my name with his sweet voice. I whispered his name aloud and my fingers wrapped around the aching, neglected vein between my legs, all awareness of my surroundings fading fast at that moment. I imagined kissing him again with hunger and abandon, moving lower and lower down the curve of his neck, tasting every inch of his skin I could reach...

At this point, I couldn’t hold back a moan, and while my teeth were clenched and lips pursed tightly, I exhaled sharply through my nose with growing excitement. I leaned back farther and my entire frame started to rock beneath the steaming water. I groaned Shinji’s name again quietly and tightened my grip, stroking myself without restraint. My mind was completely unfocused, and my muscles were overcome with spasms of joy. My previously lax and languid free hand gripped the side of the tub for dear life, nails scraping against the tile as my head fell back and shaky moans erupted from my throat.

My eyes rolled back with my head toward the door, and for a moment I imagined that I saw what vaguely looked like a wide but interested gaze staring back at me. I smirked at the hazy image, furrowing my brow and somehow encouraged further by the wild thought that Shinji might be watching me.

I was thrown blissfully over the edge and tensed all over, biting my lip to try and stifle my noises into little more than strangled groans. When it was over and I regained control, I glanced back at the door with some disbelief, only to confirm that what I saw was just in my imagination, and the curious gaze was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so uh, I have some feelings regarding this chapter because it allowed me to speculate and create a lot of headcanon for Kaworu's history and motivations. I ended up trying to deconstruct the "perfect selfless angel" trope that he seems to fit without meaning to, but isn't that what the true meaning of Evangelion is all about? of course it is. because we love to Suffer.


	6. Bend Until It Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all that had happened in my life, culminating in the events and revelations of the day, I couldn’t handle any more. My almost saintly patience, after years and years of being mercilessly twisted and bent, was now warped and strained. I took it all in stride for so long...I pushed it down and hid it away and stayed silent about everything until finally, maybe even irreparably...I broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahhaha aahaha Yikes. I'm sorry in advance for what you're about to read really really, I am.

 The next morning passed in a flurried and confused panic. I woke up before Kaworu, and like a blow to the head everything I saw and heard and _did_ came rushing violently back to my memory. Despite my best efforts I couldn't rationalize it as a dream, because it was all too vivid and real, and I could plot out everything just as it happened. My shorts were soiled with my shame, and at this realization I was almost on the brink of tears.

After the initial shock, I unconsciously tried to protect myself by going into complete denial. I slid out of bed and practically ran to the shower, scrubbing my clothes in my fingers under the running water and shoving them deep into the hamper to be forgotten. Though my mind was frighteningly blank, my breath was hurried and shallow and my chest pounded painfully. When Kaworu awoke, and all throughout the day, he was loving and affectionate as always, maybe even more so than usual, which frightened me. It made me think that he knew I saw him, and the embarrassment was so unbearable that I became blind to it.

We went out again after some time, just because I felt suffocated in the house and figured it would be easier to cope with distractions. Though I tried to keep his attention on the things around us, he was wholly focused on me. When he would hug me, I would stand stiffly and keep talking until I could draw away. When I caught him smiling a little wider, or his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, I would focus my attention on something, anything else.

In hindsight, I could curse myself for the way I acted. I have never in my life considered how my actions affected others, because I was so used to no one caring enough to even notice me. In that respect particularly, Kaworu was completely foreign to me still, even after all of the time that had passed. He was everything I wanted, and now that I more or less had him, it was impossible for me to accept it. His very existence went against everything I had taught myself growing up, everything I had learned from everyone else around me, and I was afraid that if I gave in and let myself enjoy it, something terrible would happen. He was too good to be true, and there was always a catch to things like that. Whether I meant to or not, I thought of him as more of a completely unattainable concept than an actual person, and that might be what ruined everything.

A few times, he tried to confront the events of the night before. But as soon as I heard, “Shinji, about last night...,” or “We really need to talk about--...,” I would shut down and change the subject tactlessly and almost immediately. A few times I caught the way his face would fall, or how he would purse his lips and hum quietly, but I pushed it out of my mind as quickly as it came. Though he still smiled and we managed to have some sort of half-hearted conversation, his features were pained, and his voice was low when he spoke.

I was selfishly trying to avoid embarrassment, not once stopping to think that I was inadvertently toying with his emotions. Of course that wasn’t my intention; I would never purposely hurt someone, especially not Kaworu. Not only was I denying myself my strongest desire out of some pessimistic sense of avoidance and self-preservation, but I was denying him in every sense, and it was wearing him down slowly. At the time, I didn’t seem to fully understand the way he felt, and that he wanted to keep things together just as much as I did, but was more willing to confront things and try to move us forward rather than deny it all.

We returned home after some time, and there was something dull and heavy in the atmosphere between us. We went up to my room, and upon entering he immediately crouched in front of his bag and started rummaging through, pulling out a crumpled envelope that he stared at wistfully for a long time.

“What’s that?” I asked casually, tossing my coat aside and crossing my legs as I settled onto the bed.

“Nothing of consequence...,” he said distantly, avoiding my gaze as he continued to survey the envelope with interest. “...Out of curiosity, how far is Nakano from here?”

“Um...I’m not sure, exactly...,” I said, furrowing my brow while my heart quickened a little at the mention of that name. “...Why...do you need to go to Nakano?”

“I want to visit someone.”

“Oh, really? You should have told me while we were out! I could have taken you there.”

“I hadn’t really planned on going, it was just in the back of my mind until now...,” he said, standing and slipping the paper into his pocket. “It's not too far, is it?”

"Not really."

"Could I get there by train?"

I furrowed my brow as he continued, lingering on the fact that he said _I_ instead of _we_. “Yeah, the Chuo line from Shinjuku. Hold on, let me get my jacket and--”

“No.”

I was about to push myself up from the bed, but the firmness in his tone stopped me dead in my tracks. He had never spoken to me like that before, and while there wasn’t any overt anger, there was certainly a darkness in his tone that completely caught me off guard. His face was still, but at my pause he smiled and relaxed a little, waving his hand nonchalantly.

“It’s just a family visit, I wouldn’t want to bore you,” he said casually, slipping his hands in his pockets and looking completely relaxed, though I could tell he wasn’t. “If you don’t mind, I would like to go alone.”

“Oh...okay...,” I said, a little concerned but deciding not to press the issue. “Well, um, here...you can take this, and call me if you need anything. The house number is saved in it already, so...” I rummaged in my desk drawer and pulled out a cell phone that Misato had bought for me ages ago, but I had never used.

“Thank you. I’ll be back soon.” he said finitely, taking the phone and dropping it in his pocket before leaving.

* * *

  
On the walk to the station, I was blissfully disconnected and yet somehow also painfully aware of myself and what I was feeling. Shinji’s actions throughout the day actually bore through that protective shell of patience and understanding I had, to some extent, and hurt me acutely. But I had to be alright, I had to pick up the pieces of myself quickly. He was just afraid, after all. He was delicate and confused and didn’t know how to love anyone, especially not himself. I had to be alright with that, because it wasn’t his fault.

Once I felt it, that strange insidious sadness threatening to overtake me, I was subsequently preoccupied with an overpowering urge to see Rei. I didn’t think too much into why I had decided so suddenly to visit her. All I knew was that after today, after actually feeling something akin to the pain and loneliness I felt as a child, all I could think to do was find her. I didn’t make the connection that I was seeking the comfort and protection she used to give me with her words, that I had reverted to such a level of naivete that all I wanted was my sister’s love and the gentle way she used to explain my pain away. I just thought to myself, “My, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her. I have to drop in for a visit while I’m still in Tokyo. It would be rude not to.”

Since formulating plans to take the trip to Tokyo, it had always been in the back of my mind to try and find Rei. I hadn’t spoken to her in years, and all I had to go on were the letters she sent me. The first few she sent had a post office for the return, but after a couple of weeks she offhandedly mentioned a man that had taken her in, and I assumed that the address on each envelope after that was his. Even if she wasn’t there anymore, he may at least know where she was, and it was the only option.

The walk to the station didn’t take long, and even the train ride seemed to fly by in moments. When I arrived in Nakano, I realized I didn’t have any idea where I was going. I knew the street name, and in a few of her letters she had mentioned a shrine close by, but other than that, I had nothing to go on. So I had to set about asking whoever I could about the aforementioned shrine. After about an hour of sleuthing, I learned that the name of it, and upon receiving directions, I made my way there fairly soon after.

By that time, dusk had set in and the sun was beginning to disappear beneath the horizon. I couldn’t help stopping at the shrine gate once I reached it, my feet carrying me down the stone path to the ornate entrance. I was never religious, but I held a sort of quiet reverence for places like this, in their beauty and their significance to others. As I walked along the side of the gates, I wondered offhandedly if there was really a god resting here, and if they were merciful and loving. I hoped so...the world desperately needed a being like that.

The metallic rattling of a bell drew my attention and I looked off to the side to see a tall, somber figure clapping his hands slowly and bowing his head. I watched him for a moment; taking in how he stood there silently and piously, and couldn’t help but wonder what he was praying for. After some time, his frame slumped with a calm sigh and he looked up again before turning around and facing me.

He was quite a distance away, but even from where I stood I could make out his features. He seemed on the cusp of middle and old age, his hair still dark and thick, but his face etched with numerous lines of worry and fatigue. His eyes were barely concealed by tinted glasses, and from what I could see they were deep and low, heavy with an almost overbearing sadness. We caught each other’s stares and I was surprised that not only did he let it linger for so long, but his expression never faltered in its cold determination.

“...Excuse me.” he said after what felt like ages, and I snapped to, as if coming back from a trance. Though I wasn’t in his way and he wasn’t in mine, I suppose he still felt it necessary to politely separate himself from the noiseless conversation we were locked in. As he walked past me toward the gate, I instinctively called after him.

“Um, sir...?”

He stopped and glanced at me, his hands nestled in his pockets and pushing his coat tightly around his weary frame, “...Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you lived around here,” I said calmly but abruptly. I don’t know what made me think he would be able to help me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of overwhelming significance I felt from him. Strange as it was to say, he felt familiar somehow, or at least I got the impression that we were connected, even though I couldn’t even begin to explain it. “I’m looking for this address, and I’m not from around here so I don’t know where to find it.”

I stepped up to him and held out the envelope, turning it over and indicating Rei’s address scrawled neatly in the corner

He stared at it for a long time and I had no idea what to make of his expression; it remained unchanged, with the exception of an almost imperceptible twitch, and I had started to think that he couldn’t help, but the fact that he held it for so long made me wonder until he spoke.

“Where did you get this?” he said lowly and his eyes flitted up to look at me.

“It’s from my sister. She sent it to me years ago,” I said, my eyes fixed on him with quiet hope while I wondered if I had stumbled upon a bit of luck. “I haven’t spoken to her since, and I’m trying to find her.”

“...Is that so,” he said, looking down at the envelope again and turning it over in his hands before giving it back to me. “I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll show you what you’re looking for.”

Before I had a chance to thank him, he turned around and started to walk away and I took that as some sort of ill-mannered invitation to follow him.

I couldn’t help but smile, even as I increased my pace to a gentle trot to keep up with my somber guide. Not only was I excited to see Rei again, but I was helplessly intrigued by this man I had met. What connection did he have to her? Did he have any connection to her at all? Who exactly was he, and what about that envelope made him decide to help me? He didn’t seem particularly friendly at all, or like anyone who would waste time with something irrelevant or unimportant, so he must have been significant to him somehow.

I followed behind him quietly as we made our way along the street, which grew gradually more silent and less populated the lower the sun sunk. We reached an open, grassy niche in the midst of a few trees that looked strangely and suspiciously like a graveyard, and my gentle curiosity shifted into a creeping worry.

He guided me along one of the rows of simple grave markers and my worry turned into indignant disbelief as I struggled to justify our reason for being here. _Rei had always been a bit macabre,_ I thought to myself, obviously grasping at straws. _Maybe she likes to spend her time here. It must be interesting or romantic to her...or she might be paying respects to a friend. That must be it._

Finally, he stopped in front of one of the markers; it looked no different from the others, except that it didn’t seem to have as many flowers or tokens decorating the base. There was a simple, half-withered knot of lilies tied together, and my gaze trailed upward from it along the length of the headstone to read the name “Rei Ayanami”.

“Ayanami...?”

“When she left the note, she asked me not to use her family name on the marker,” the man said solemnly, staring down at the grave with the same steely expression. “ And though I don’t understand why, she requested I use my wife’s maiden name. Maybe to disconnect herself from her family name. Or to spite me somehow. Either seems equally likely.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand...what...kind of note...?” the answer was obvious, and yet I couldn’t process it. My head started to hurt a little just thinking about it, and I glanced around at the ground as if it could give me the answers I wanted instead of the ones that were true. “Who exactly are you? How did you know Rei?”

“I found her one day on my way home from work. She was sleeping near the entrance of Hikawa shrine--the one we just left, actually--and she told me she had nowhere to go, so I decided to take her in. She didn’t tell me where she came from or how she got here, but that probably wouldn’t have changed anything, anyway.”

I looked at him expectantly, hoping he would say she ran away unexpectedly one day and left a note saying she wanted him to dig a grave for her. Something romantic and symbolic like that. Anything that would let me know she might still be alive. When he didn’t say that, or anything at all for that matter, I brought my hand up to my hair and pushed it back, struggling internally with something overwhelming.

“Once you lose enough people, and you get to be a certain age, loneliness makes you do some pretty rash things...” he muttered offhandedly, his voice a little softer than before.

“I’m sorry I...It’s just the funniest thing,” I found myself saying, cutting over him and speaking in such a breathless and frantic way that he turned to me. “Just, the strangest thing, I...seem to have...ah, I think I lost my will, just now. Mhm, I’m pretty sure that was it. So sorry, sir, thank you for your time. Pardon me.”

I remember walking away after that, and I think I saw him move to follow after me, but I was rapidly and violently disconnecting and I couldn’t stop myself. I turned toward the street, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of it and there was a flash of headlights blinding me. After that, just darkness, and the last thing I remembered thinking was, “I wonder if she’s happy yet...”

 

  
A sudden warmth blanketed my face, and my eyes flew open. I was lying on a couch, and I stared up at a dimly lit ceiling. The dull, rattling blast from a small heater beside me made me feel uncomfortably hot, and I tried to sit up but there was a sharp pain in my side that prevented me from doing so.

“Don’t try to move just yet...,” said a familiar voice and I turned to see the man from before setting a tray on the table. “I managed to push you out of the way, but I think I bruised one of your ribs in the process. I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s fine.” I didn’t tell him how irritated I was that he had intervened, since it wouldn’t have changed anything anyway. I wondered if this would inadvertently turn into another situation where I have to bear the burden of someone who wanted to save my life. I would take the place of my sister in this lonely old man’s life to help him feel like he had some purpose again. Before, I might have enthusiastically jumped on the opportunity to selflessly fulfill someone’s life like that, but for some reason the thought made me weary and annoyed right now.

“I acted tactlessly, showing you that grave,” he said, sitting down and taking a cup of tea from the tray. “I figured you didn’t know she was gone, but I didn’t expect you to walk into traffic after finding out.”

In spite of the warning he gave me about moving, I winced and sat up quietly, glancing down at the tray to see another cup of tea sitting there, presumably for me. I reached forward and grabbed it, even if only just to feel the warmth of it in my hands.

“You must be Gendou.” I said offhandedly, not looking at him as I brought the tea up to my nose and sniffed it gently to discern the ingredients.

“...Yes. I suppose she told you about me in one of her letters.”

“Sort of,” I replied, noting the strong scent of a deeply roasted hojicha, with a very faint hint of something floral...most likely rose. In spite of my dull irritation, I couldn’t suppress a smile; I learned you could tell a lot about a person by what kind of tea they drank, and moreover, what kind they served to guests. It was an interesting combination, and it distracted me enough so that I felt a little more in my element. “She only told me that she was staying with a widower named Gendou. A very warm and kind man...so you can see how I may have doubted...”

He looked down and gave a short, bitter chuckle at the passive jab I made at him. Rather than getting angry, he shrugged and took a sip from his cup, “I suppose I deserve that. I’ve become a bit...rough, over the years. Before my wife died, I liked to think I could have been described that way by everyone. Rei reminded me a lot of her, and to some extent she brought that side out of me again.”

I observed the subtle changes in his expression as I quietly sipped my tea; noting the way his face softened at the mention of his wife, then grew steadily and imperceptibly more calm and sad when he mentioned Rei.

“What was your wife like?” I asked quietly, glancing around the room for some sort of clue as I spoke, eventually letting my eyes settle on a few portraits just above the mantlepiece. I saw a soft, beautiful woman with short dark hair and loving eyes, smiling warmly in each one and even holding a jovial little baby in a few of them. In a way, I could understand how she might remind him of Rei. There were vague similarities there...but only vague. She looked far too happy and at ease with herself to bear anything but a loose resemblance to the Rei that I knew.

Gendou paused after I had posed my question and looked down at his cup, turning it around in slow circles between his fingers as if searching the depths of the drink for the right words. “She was...wholly inhuman, in my eyes. At one point I would have called her an angel, but she was too gentle and too headstrong to be compared to a subservient pawn like that. She was warm...with a maternal air to her love that gave me a reason to be for a long time. We had a child together, but ...she fell ill, shortly after he was born. I’ll never forget how she struggled those few years before her death.”

I noticed that darkness return to his eyes at the mention of his son, and it was so deep and pained that I wondered offhandedly if he even realized he was blaming the child for her demise.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said in as somber a tone I could muster, before setting my cup down and asking the one thing I really wanted to know. “...I apologize for all of the invasive questions, but I have one more before I go. How did Rei die, exactly?”

He glanced up at me with a vague expression, as if fighting with himself. I wondered briefly if he would lie, whether to protect me from doing something else impulsive or to hide some secret sin he had. I stared him down and silently entreated him to do the former, trying to convey to him that I was going to do whatever I was going to do, whether he tried to prevent it or not.

“She had stopped going to school after awhile, and spent a lot of time up in her room. I only saw her for meals, but I decided not to pester her about it. One morning, I called her down for breakfast and she didn’t answer. I went upstairs and found her in the bathroom, she...her wrists.” he said stiffly, stopping himself midsentence.

He didn’t need to say anymore for me to figure it out. I suppose it didn’t really come as a surprise to hear that...part of me always felt that whenever she did eventually die, it would be by her own hand, and almost specifically that way. I noticed the cuts started to appear shortly before she ran away, and even though I was young, I wasn’t a complete fool. The thought used to terrify me in its cold accuracy, and I tried to push it out of my mind when I was younger but eventually I accepted it. Maybe that was for the best, since it ended up happening as prophesied and that enabled me to be somewhat prepared for this news.

“I see. Well, I appreciate you giving me your time,” I said shortly, standing up and fixing my jacket on my shoulders. “I’m sorry to impose. I’ll be on my way, then.”

“Wait, before you go, you should take this,” he said and reached for the tray to pick up a sealed and addressed envelope that I hadn’t noticed before. “It’s addressed the same as the letter you showed me, so I assume it was meant for you...I thought about sending it to you, but figured there was a reason she hadn’t done so herself. I haven’t read it, and it’s not serving any use here, so I figured you should keep it from now on.”

I took the envelope from him to see that it was indeed addressed to me, and though there was no sender or return address written on it, I recognized Rei’s handwriting. I nodded my thanks to him andcontinued on toward the door, sliding the letter numbly into my jacket pocket.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For everything.” I heard him say lowly to me as I reached for the doorknob, completely ignoring him.

“Oh and, I almost forgot,” I piped up in response, compelled to make a completely unrelated comment as if I hadn’t heard the weighted words he had just presented me. “A bit of advice; unless the flavor has some sentimental value to you, I would avoid mixing hojicha of such a roast with rose hip. It’s too savory for something floral like that, and the combination is discordant at best. If you’re not going to commit and try to enhance the flavor, use something more complimentary, or nothing at all.”

And with that, I pulled the door open and stepped outside into the cold early night. It was a bit of a walk back to the train station, but once I arrived and sat on the bench to wait for mine to arrive, I fished the unopened letter out of my pocket and carefully broke the seal, unfolding it and leaning over as I read it carefully.

The whole ride home, after having read and reread, having internalized and digested thoroughly the words on that forsaken page, I was numb. After all that had happened in my life, culminating in the events and revelations of the day, I couldn’t handle any more. My almost saintly patience, after years and years of being mercilessly twisted and bent, was now warped and strained. I took it all in stride for so long, always saying, “It’s okay, everything is okay. This is fine. I’ll be fine.” I pushed it down and hid it away and stayed silent about everything until finally, maybe even irreparably...

I broke.

* * *

  
I was vaguely worried when Kaworu left the way he did, and that concern only increased as the hours passed and there was still no sign of him returning. I stayed downstairs in the living room, the TV on and spouting noise but my eyes and attention fully trained on the silent phone beside me. I wondered if he was angry with me for the way I had treated him all day, and I couldn’t help but reprimand myself for that. He was probably avoiding me, and had it not been for the fact that he left his bag sitting in my room, I would have thought he had gone back home.

I sighed and brought my knees up to my chest, resting my face in them and staring at the TV screen as time ticked on endlessly and I waited for him. Misato came in the room every few hours to disappear into the kitchen and grab another beer, and after the third time, she walked up to me and leaned over the back of the couch to look at my face.

“Shinji? You okay?” she said lightly and I flinched a little as I hadn’t heard her approach.

“Huh? Oh...yeah, I’m fine.” I said distantly, relaxing my posture to appear more nonchalant.

“Where’s Kaworu? You two have been pretty much inseparable up till now, but I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Mmh...he said he wanted to visit some family in Nakano,” I muttered, now starting to wonder exactly how true that was. “He didn’t say when he’d be back, though. I guess he’s spending the night.”

“Nakano?” She said, just as surprised as I was when I first heard the name, and for probably for the same reason. “...That’s a little...random. Does he know how to get back?”

“I think so...and even if he doesn’t, I gave him my cell phone to call if he needs anything.”

“Ugh, Shinji, I bought that for _you_ ,” she said a little irritably, taking a sip of her beer and resting an indignant hand on her hip. “I haven’t seen you use it _once_ , and now you’re giving it away to people. Honestly, I just don’t get it.”

“I didn’t give it away, I let him _borrow_ it since he doesn’t have one,” I said, rolling my eyes a little. “And like you said, I never use it, so it’s not that big of a deal.”

She rolled her eyes in return and flicked me in the back of the head, causing me to twist around rapidly and face her with a pout, “Well, whatever. I can pick him up if necessary, but if he calls after ten, I’m outta commission, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” I said with a bit of a huff, rubbing my head and turning back to the TV. Even though I gave her grief, I was glad Misato was around sometimes. Even if she wasn’t the best at making me feel better, at least she cared a little bit, and was able to distract me for periods of time.

Eventually, night fell, and I glanced at my watch to see that it was almost a quarter to eleven. I figured at that point since Kaworu hadn’t showed up, he’d be spending the night wherever he was, and I couldn’t help but grow a little saddened by the fact that he didn’t even bother to call. Not by much, though, since it was my fault he left in the first place. I made a note that whenever I saw him next, I’d get over myself and apologize for the way I acted, and hope that he didn’t hate me too much after that.

I turned the TV off and pushed up from the couch, stretching wide and turning off the lamp. Just as I was heading toward the stairs, I heard the doorbell ring, and immediately jumped to attention. I practically ran to the door and squinted through the peephole, beside myself with relief when I saw that wavy tuft of silver curls.

I opened the door to see him standing there with his head bent, reaching in his pockets for something before he looked up at me.

“Ah, you’re still awake. I thought to call in hindsight, just in case you weren’t...” he said slowly, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, I uh...I figured I’d wait for you, just to make sure you were okay,” I said slowly, instinctively averting my eyes from him but unable to keep from smiling. I hadn’t expected him to come back, and I took it as a good sign that he did. “Um...how was your visit?”

“It was...informative.” he said, his tone still calm but vague and strangely sharp. He still had that odd aura about him that was there when he left, only it seemed heavier now. There was a pause after that, during which I stood awkwardly at the door, unsure of what to do since he hadn’t made any moves to come in yet, even though I was standing a little off to the side to make way for him.

“Um, about...today...,” I started off hesitantly, then took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. “I just...wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I acted. And I know I say sorry a lot, but, I feel like it’s necessary this time...I dunno, I just didn’t want you to think that I was--”

I was cut off unexpectedly by him slowly closing in on me, causing me to almost choke on my words and back up into the umbrella rack near the door, knocking it over with a loud clatter.

I glanced back and almost fell over it, but he caught me easily with one arm and held me by my waist. I looked up at him burning red, while he stared back at me with something in his eyes that I would almost describe as dead.

“Why don’t you use me, Shinji?” he asked calmly, and in my surprise and confusion I only choked out half-formed sounds, but couldn’t find any words to respond. “I love you so much...More than I’ve ever loved anyone, and I want so badly to be useful to you...”

“I-I...wh-what are you...talking about...I d-don’t....” I sputtered out as he pulled me close to his chest and buried his face in my neck. Once again I was caught completely unaware, and I was at his mercy as he pulled me up and pressed me gently against the wall.

“Why are you so different? You need me, and I want to help you, and you push me away...,” I couldn’t tell if he was still talking to me or to himself at this point, muttering incoherently into my neck and making me shiver.

“P-please, Kaworu...w-wait a minute...”

“I need to be useful to you. Please, I need this...,” he dragged his lips across my jawline and my cheek, sliding his other hand around the back of my neck and pulling my head closer to his. “If I can’t help you, then there’s...there’s nothing left for me, Shinji...I have absolutely nothing...”

“Let me go...j-just, f-for a minute...I need to think...” I said breathlessly, pushing against him but only weakly. Even now, I couldn’t figure out why I was trying to push him away from me, why having him so close terrified me and made me want to run. He pleaded with me, and I could almost hear tears in his voice even though his eyes were still dry. He pressed his lips against mine and I whimpered, clutching his shirt tightly in my fingers and trying to make sense of what was happening. But he was so earnest, and after a few heavy seconds, I relaxed my grip and exhaled a shaky sigh, on the precipice of giving in again...

“What on _Earth_ are you doing!?”

Misato’s shocked voice brought me back down to reality, and Kaworu broke away from me to look at her, although much more slowly and calmly than I did. I sputtered and wrenched my way out of his weakened grip, stumbling and falling over myself while staring at them both with fear.

“Ah, Ms. Misato,” Kaworu said calmly, as if oblivious to her shocked anger. “I apologize for waking you. I know it's very late, I wasn't expecting to be out so--”

“Cut the crap!” she said angrily, moving forward and grabbing my hand to pull me roughly to her side. “How dare you take advantage of him like that! I knew you were no good, I just knew it...I shouldn’t have let this happen...”

“W-wait, Misato, it’s not what you think!” I said hurriedly, struggling to find some way to explain the situation even in spite of the fact that I wasn’t completely sure of what was happening in the first place.

“Let’s go, you’re out of here _now_!” she screamed at him, letting go of me and shoving him toward the door. I panicked, and tried to push myself up off of the ground, but I was shaking too much, and couldn’t catch her. I looked up just as she was shoving Kaworu out of the door and following after him, snatching her car keys from the hook on the wall.

I managed to catch his sad glance and see the glisten in his eyes as if tears were forming there, barely hearing him mutter the words, “I’m sorry, Shinji.” before the door slammed shut behind the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for this story's sake, I went with Yui's maiden name being "Ayanami" as stated in the Rebuild series


	7. God's In His Heaven, And We Need Him Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Love can be pretty confusing the first time, Shinji. It’s terrifying and powerful, and hard to explain...I should know. I’m not gonna lie to you, there’s a very good chance you’ll get hurt when you love somebody. But the more you try to avoid that pain, the more likely you are to run right into some other, much worse kind of pain. It’s like drawing away from one knife and backing right into another one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is technically chapter 6.5, it was supposed to be apart of the previous chapter but i'm REALLY TRYING to keep these shorter than fifteen pages each. still doesn't...fix the Angst™ just yet but you all knew what you were getting yourselves into tbh
> 
> anyway enjoy some of Kaji aka Mom's Comforting Boyfriend aka Substitute Father Figure

After that night, I didn’t hear from Kaworu again.

I couldn’t help but go over the past few days in my mind; it all happened so quickly and so suddenly, and it seemed like some horrible dream. Over the course of those few days, I was alternately the happiest and most depressed I had ever been, and no matter how closely I analyzed it, no matter how many times I dissected each scenario in my head, I couldn’t think of how I would have handled any of those situations any better. Sure, I could figure out millions of things I _should_ have done better--as was the case with every mistake I had made in my life--but as usual, my actual responses were far from what I really wanted to convey. I laughed bitterly at myself, realizing how truly inept I was at interacting with others...even someone like Kaworu, who was likely more than willing to put up with whatever blunders or awkward confessions I happened to make as he had done hundreds of times before.

While I hadn’t meant to, I had completely ruined everything, and was so angry at myself that I could do nothing but completely shut down.

Misato came in my room the morning after to grab the knapsack Kaworu had left there, prattling angrily about how she put him up at a hostel for the remainder of night and was taking him back to the train station in an hour. I wanted to grab her by the arm and beg her not to do this, tell her that he didn’t take advantage of me. Explain to her that he was all out of sorts because of me, that I had punished his patience and love with uncertainty and fear. I wanted to tell her that he loved me, and that I loved him too; that I wanted to see him again and tell him I was sorry for everything. I wanted to completely start over like none of this had ever happened.

But I didn’t tell her any of that. I just sat quietly on my bed and watched as she gathered up the few clothes of his that were still strewn on the floor because I refused to touch them. She shoved them roughly in the bag, slinging it over her shoulder and stomping downstairs.

Everything was wrong. It was all wrong and I felt like there was nothing I could do to fix it. I leaned over to lie on my side in bed and curl up tightly, feeling all of the warmth and carefully gathered confidence within me that had been built up by Kaworu over the last year come crumbling down to rubble at my feet.

I locked myself in my room and refused to come out, automatically perceiving that the root of the problem that was Me, and always Me. I never wanted to see or talk to anyone again, because it always ended in some kind of pain, either for me or for them. Everything around me seemed destined to be destroyed one way or another by some uncontrollable force that was determined to keep me suffering.

I pulled my blanket tightly around me and shuffled over my desk, staying glued to the computer for an eternity. I hardly ever moved, except to use the bathroom or get something to eat when I knew Misato was asleep or out of the house. I went back to the site where I met Kaworu and stared at his page for hours; nothing had been posted since we had started talking regularly, and the page was outdated by several months even now. I kept refreshing it over and over again for something, anything that told me he was still around and that he might be okay. I could have sent him a message, but that would require a modicum of courage and selflessness that I didn’t possess, and even if I did, there was nothing I could say that would fix things.

I thought about it incessantly, but all I could come up with were variations of “Hey so, I know literally everything about my words and body language made you think I was repulsed by you and wholly uninterested in your affection, but I’m actually madly in love with you and completely incapable of accepting those feelings because I’m emotionally stunted and subconsciously love to make myself suffer.” or “Hey, how’s it going, sorry for making my legal guardian think you were trying to attack me and subsequently getting you thrown out of my house in the middle of the night, I hope we can still be friends at least.”

Though that was all the truth of it, it was far too ridiculous and inexcusable in my eyes. Even if he did believe it, I couldn’t expect him to hurt any less just because I explained things. Indeed, such a vague and pandering explanation might make him feel worse.

Every once in awhile, the dull half-consciousness I existed in was interrupted for a moment by the sound of Misato knocking on the door, or trying to wrench her way in. She would call out my name over and over, screaming at me to let her in at first. When I didn’t respond to that, she tried to be passive aggressive and feign nonchalance, saying that I could ruin my life if I wanted to, and that she didn’t care (which didn’t affect me, either because it wasn’t true or because it wasn’t a surprise). When I showed no sign of leaving my room even after school had started again, she tried to bargain with me, asking me to just talk to her and tell her what was going on, and that everything was going to be okay.

But even with that, I still didn’t budge.

A few weeks went by; Misato had stopped coming to my door and I still hadn’t heard anything from Kaworu. Occasionally, when I left to go to the bathroom, I would find a cold tray of food sitting in front of the doorway, presumably left there hours or even days before. Sometimes it even appeared to be a home-cooked meal, and I would have been impressed by the effort were I capable of processing the sentiment behind the action. I might take it and eat about half of it, before setting it back in front of the door and noticing that it would be gone or refilled the next time I saw it. I had grown incredibly thin, and I was starting to feel sick, but I couldn’t care. I didn’t have the energy to actually kill myself, so I figured I would push it until my body just gave up.

  
Then one day, I was woken up by a loud, obtrusive scraping sound coming from the door. It was a little frantic and very impatient, and as I turned to the door, I saw a sliver of metal sticking through the crack. It was being wrenched up and down until it wedged the lock away from the frame and allowed whoever it was to push it open.

“Man, I’m getting rusty...used to only take a few seconds to get through a lock that simple,” said a vaguely familiar voice, and I noticed a scruffy looking man shaking his head at the scratched up door frame before looking at me. “Hey, there you are! Misato told me you’ve been trapped in here for awhile, so I figured it was my job to save you.”

It was Misato’s obnoxious beau, Kaji, smiling playfully at me with an aura that exuded so much positivity it made me physically sick. He slipped the small knife in his pocket and walked up to me, leaning uncomfortably close to my face, “Jeez, and here I thought you couldn’t get any skinnier than you already were...you’re practically a corpse at this point.”

“Please get out of my room.” I said quietly, a little surprised by the sound of my own voice. I hadn’t spoken a word in weeks, and I forgot how soft and weak I sounded. Or maybe it had just become that way from a combination of disuse and slow, steady starvation.

“C’mon now, that’s no way to talk to a friend,” he said with a snarky smile and I knew he was teasing me. “I’m here to help.”

“I don’t need your help. I’m fine.” I muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around my face.

“Never took you for much of a liar...and you’re really bad at it, too,” he said, gripping the back of my chair and wrenching it around so that I had little other choice but to face him. “I’m doing this because Misato practically begged me. She’s been worried sick about you, y’know. I figured it had to be serious since she’s never cried about anything like that before.”

I felt a sting of guilt wrack me through at the thought of Misato actually crying because of me. I bitterly mused to myself about how I managed to hurt people even when I tried doing nothing at all.

“So what’s going on, Shinji. Talk to me.” Kaji prodded, crouching in front of me and resting a hand on the arm of the chair. I didn’t want to try and explain anything to him; it was far too complicated, and I still didn’t fully understand it even after I had spent almost every waking moment obssessing over each detail. So I just glanced away from him and stayed silent, hoping that he might give up and go away like Misato did, but knowing that wasn’t actually going to happen.

“...Alright, then I’ll tell you what I know so far and I guess you can just...clear things up for me if I’ve got anything wrong,” he said casually, grunting a little as he plopped on the floor in front of me and crossed his legs. “So, according to Misato, you had a friend come and visit for winter break. You guys got along great for a couple of days. So much so that she frankly wouldn’t stop talking about it at the time, she was so excited that you’d finally found someone to get along with, and so was I. Now, mind you, that’s not an insult. I’m not saying you’re not a great kid, because you are. It was just a simple fact that you seemed to have a lot of trouble finding other kids with common interests. Even more so, it seemed to affect you a lot, which is understandable, cause everybody needs at least one friend in their life.”

For some reason, hearing it all laid out in front of me was difficult to bear. Coming from a completely unrelated third party, the events were presented with such objectivity that it was almost as if I was reliving it all over again...the way my heart leapt wildly when I saw him step off of the train, the way we talked and laughed that day in Akihabara, or how he held me the night that I panicked, and did everything he could to make sure I was okay. I stared at the floor and buried my face a little more into the blanket.

“Here’s where it gets confusing for me, though,” Kaji continued, scratching his poorly shaven chin and knitting his eyebrows. “Apparently the last day, the pivotal _big_ day, he disappeared for a family visit he didn’t mention previously, then came back in the middle of the night and assaulted you out of nowhere. Am I getting this right so far?”

“No, that’s not it!” I said, raising my voice for the first time in awhile, so much so that it cracked and I had to cough a few times. “That’s...that’s not how it happened....he didn’t assault me.”

“Okay see, that’s what I thought, too, according to all of the other stuff,” Kaji said, watching me closely. “But Misato tells me she heard something fall over, and when she got up to check it out, she found you telling him to stop and to let you go, and the next thing she sees is him pushing you against a wall and you trying to get him off or something? Explain that to me.”

Again, the events were laid out in front of me objectively, and thinking back, that’s exactly what had happened. I was confused, yes. I was scared, definitely. But it wasn’t so simple as that...thinking back, there was so much pain in his eyes, and the things he said before he kissed me...about how much he loved me, and how much he needed me, those things stood out now in a way they didn’t to me before. Even after all of that...why did I keep pushing him away? If I didn’t admire him so much, if he somehow repulsed me or I had no feelings for him, then maybe it would make sense. But I wanted him more than anything, and yet I never let myself have him...even though he was giving himself to me.

“Shinji?”

I had apparently been musing over this for awhile, and when Kaji called my name again I snapped out of my daze and looked at him, blinking for a moment before sighing heavily.

“I don’t...know how to explain it...,” I said honestly, a little exasperated as I tried to find the words. “But it wasn’t what it looked like. Yeah he surprised me and I didn’t know what to do at first...I panicked, and I wanted him to let go so I could just...take a second to think...To...I dunno, try and make sense of it. He treated me so differently from everyone else, and it was hard...ugh, it was _impossible_ to comprehend it. No one’s ever been so nice to me, I couldn’t believe it was real and I...I just kept pushing him away, no matter what he did or said or how much he helped me...I didn’t trust him and I pushed him away...and now he’s...h-he’s...g...”

I felt my voice catching in my throat and I knew I was about to cry, so I stopped talking. I pulled the blanket over my head to hide myself from Kaji and my own emotions, which were overflowing now that I really faced them. There was a light pressure on my head, and I looked up to see that Kaji had moved closer and was patting it gently. He smiled in a way that was more gentle and understanding than his usual obnoxious grin, and even though his gestures still had that overbearing positivity about them, I knew he was trying to make me feel better.

“Love can be pretty confusing the first time, Shinji. It’s terrifying and powerful, and hard to explain...I should know,” he said with a chuckle, ruffling my hair a little. “It’s what keeps me crawling back to that madwoman you have the pleasure of living with. I’m not gonna lie to you, there’s a very good chance you’ll get hurt when you love somebody. But the more you try to avoid that pain, the more likely you are to run right into some other, much worse kind of pain. It’s like drawing away from one knife and backing into another one that’s a lot bigger...and also on fire, or something.”

I laughed a little in spite of myself, and his smile widened. “There we go! See, I know what I’m talking about sometimes. Anyway, the way I go about love is just...to be honest with myself, and tell the other person how I’m feeling. You’re likely to get hurt no matter how you go about it, so you’d might as well put everything out there because there’s always the chance that it’ll work out. And if it doesn’t, you move on. Time changes things, for better or for worse, and there’s no way of knowing for sure how it’s gonna be.”

I listened to him and could almost accept his words as true. It was hard to really internalize those things, but for the time being they filled me with some sense of comfort, since he seemed to understand and phrase things in a way I could relate to.

I sniffed and wiped my face as he pulled away and stood up straight, “Now get out of this room for a bit...eat some cake or something, you look like you’re gonna die.”

* * *

  
While my talk with Kaji at least helped me enough to get out of my room, the somber mist that hung around me cleared only slightly. I had started eating again, and at least doing the minimum to take care of myself, but for the most part I was still a bit of a zombie.

Once I was able to move around again, Misato immediately tried to convince me to go back to school. The thought alone brought a darkness and insurmountable pressure to my mind, and I didn’t know how to explain this to her so I argued stubbornly that there was really nothing I could learn there that would help me anyway. She could tell the real reason why I was pushing the issue so much, and decided for once not to force it.

Since that failed, and apparently all she wanted was to “get me out of my shell”, she decided to move Kaji in temporarily since he was the only who had even come close to making me feel better. Whenever she was out of the house, he took it upon himself to more or less force me into being sociable; whether it was pestering me while I was cooking, roping me into watching a movie with him, or dragging me out to run some errand or satisfy a craving for some weirdly specific food that brought us halfway across town. I appreciated his efforts, and tried my best to muster up a smile or laugh at his awful jokes to let him know it wasn’t all for naught, but he was very intuitive, or maybe I was just more transparent than I thought. He demonstrate this by occasionally patting my head or pulling me into a hug that I didn’t ask for and wasn’t expecting.

At one point, he brought me to a teahouse during one of our near-daily excursions, and I found myself overcome with a particularly bitter bout of emptiness that I hadn’t felt in awhile. Out of distraction, dissociation, or just plain willpower, I hadn’t consciously thought about Kaworu in a few days, and it kept my mood fairly even. However, when the tea I ordered was set in front of me, and the steam curled up toward my face, it filled my senses with all manner of floral, spicy notes and brought violently painful memories of him to mind. I imagined his smiling, excited face and the particular pitch that overtook his voice whenever he would explain some obscure ingredient to me, describing all sorts of hints and nuances I would never have noticed in a simple cup of tea. I looked down into the translucent depths and sadly wondered what kind this was, and if he would have liked it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just had your heart broken by that cup of tea,” Kaji said obliquely, and I realized I had been staring at for an oddly long time. “If you don’t like it, you can always order another one.”

“No, it’s not that...it just...reminded me of something.” I said distantly, propping my head up with one hand and stirring nothing into it with a spoon.

“Some _one_ , more like,” he replied knowingly and immediately my cheeks flooded with heat. It was a little annoying how easily other people seemed to read my mind lately. “I’m not oblivious, Shinji, and frankly I’m offended you would think so.”

I sighed and covered my face with both hands, groaning into them and sinking back in my chair as he laughed at me.

“Man, you’ve really got it bad, huh,” he said and I answered with another exasperated grunt. “Have you tried talking to him since then?”

“Of course not! I don’t...I mean there’s no reliable way to do it,” I said through my fingers, staring up at the ceiling and wishing the answer would just fall in my lap somehow. “And even if I did, I have no idea what I’d say.”

“Maybe that’s for the best...that last part, I mean. Sometimes you say the best things when you haven’t had any time to think about it.”

At first I wanted to argue that, but I realized he was right; all of the planning and agonizing and second-guessing I had ever done in relation to Kaworu had backfired on me. It was only when I was completely in my element and just did what felt right, with little or no thought to it, that things went well.

“Even still...he hasn’t been online in weeks, and it’s doubtful he’d ever see any message I sent him.”

“Well, why don’t you try writing him a letter?”

“That would take too long. And I don’t have his address.”

“Well, you could always visit.”

“Yeah, I suppose I could, but I would need _an address_ for that.” I said, glancing at him a little annoyed now, confused as to why he kept pushing it despite the obvious futility.

“It’s a good thing I’ve got this then, huh?” and I heard a very pointed tapping on the table that made me look down, even if only to make him be quiet.

Instead of some stupid joke or trick at my expense, I saw an unsealed envelope sitting face down on the table, resting placidly beneath his slowly tapping fingers.

“What is that?” I said, my heart pounding in my chest, the answer almost obvious but I was hesitant to believe it prematurely.

“Pretty much the answer to your prayers,” he said, turning it over to reveal the face; penned neatly in the center of the envelope was Kaworu’s name and what I assumed to be his full address. “Misato gave it to me today...apparently she swiped it off of him when she brought him to the train station and was keeping it ‘in case he tried anything and she had to track him down.’ But we talked about it and figured it’d be a lot more useful to you, given the circumstances.”

I stared at the paper on the table with disbelief, reaching for it and holding it up in front of my face. I vaguely wondered who had written this, and why Kaworu was holding onto it. It wasn’t the same letter he had before, since it didn’t have the Nakano address--or any other for that matter--as the return. I felt that a letter was still folded up inside and fought between a vague urge to read it and a wish to respect his privacy.

“I didn’t read the letter, but apparently Misato did and she refuses to tell me about it, so it’s up to you whether you do or don’t,” Kaji said with a shrug, taking another sip of his tea and calling a server over. “According to her, though, if you’re going to see him, it would be wise to do so very soon before something happens.”

“Before...something happens?” I said, looking up as an immediate surge of worry shot through me and quickened my heartbeat. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, though, as he was now engaged with placing another order for some cake, and I glanced back down at the envelope for a long time. I figured since it was already open, there was no harm in reading it, and if it got too personal then I could always stop. But I couldn’t fight the curiosity, and it might give me some answer I needed.

I pulled it out carefully and unfolded it, setting the envelope down and reading:

_Brother,_

_I wish I could tell you all is well, and that there is a good reason why I haven’t written to you in so long, but that wouldn’t be the truth. It seems that moving away from home and coming to Tokyo made no difference at all. At least, not one that matters...I still feel the same way, I still have the same problems inside that I fought so hard back at home. Gendou, the man I told you about earlier, is very sweet and welcoming as I said, but...he’s the same as everyone else. He always talks about how I remind him of his wife, and sometimes calls me by her name. He tells me it’s a mistake when I mention it, but I know the truth. Like Mother and Father, he wants me to be something I’m not...he wants me to be someone else for his own reasons. He told me he had a son that died with his wife, but that was a lie, too. I know his son...I think his name is Shinji, and he’s a very nice boy who went to the same school as me. He’s the only one who ever talked to me at school, even it was only for a minute. I know it is him, because he has the same last name and even looks a little like his father. We could have been friends, maybe, but I couldn’t bear to talk to him any longer...it’s too painful to watch another child, and one so kind, go without a parent that loves them. I shouldn’t be so disappointed...Gendou didn’t have to take me in for nothing in return. Of course he had his own motives, and it was foolish of me to think he was doing this completely out of the goodness of his heart. He worshiped his wife, so much so that he demonized his own son as the cause of her death when he could find no one else to blame. I can’t do this anymore, brother. I can’t keep feeding this obsession he has. I can’t keep living for others, and I don’t know how to live for myself, or if it’s even worth it to try. I wanted to say my one goodbye only to you, the one person who cared about me for who I was, and the only one who truly wished for my happiness. Thank you for being so sweet, and for loving me still in spite of everything. Please, don’t let this world use you and ruin you. Try to stay beautiful in spite of everything._

_I love you. I’m sorry._   
_Rei_


	8. All Is Right With The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all that had happened, I felt it was appropriate to finally see how it would all end, and even if it hurt, I knew Kaworu would be there when I needed him.

Hours later, I found myself sitting listlessly in Kaji's car, my eyes glued to the scenery rushing past the window as if I would somehow be able to tell we were close to Kaworu's house.

Immediately upon finishing the letter, I dragged Kaji out of the teahouse as well as I could, muttering all manner of frantic ramblings about getting to him as quickly as possible. I was narrowmindedly focused on leaving, feeling as if enough time had been wasted already. Had I known this days ago, even that would have felt too late, and I didn't want to let myself entertain the thought that it already was.

Since Kaji had more presence of mind at that time than I did, he slowed me down when we got in the car, explaining that he had to at least GPS the address on the envelope before we could get anywhere. While that made sense, he wasn't typing quickly enough for my taste, and I couldn't stop my entire body from shaking with urgency and anxiety. He pulled out of the parking lot and immediately set off, giving Misato a quick call to let her know where we were going. It would be a long drive, but luckily Kaji wasn't one to mind the speed limit very often so I hoped that would make a difference.

Kaji put on some sort of soothing jazz and tried to ease the tension as much as he could by talking to me, but I couldn't hear any of it. My eyes were darting rapidly about the landscape outside the window, and I had to keep wiping them because they were watering up with the threat of tears, but I couldn't cry now. I had to keep them open, I had to watch everything and not miss a moment, and the only times I could muster up a word or two, they were to the effect of "Drive faster."

I don't know exactly how long the trip took, but I know we reached Takayama well after nightfall. There was a bit of confusion as the GPS had us turned around a few times, but we later found out that was because the apartment complex itself was in a rather isolated part of town, at the end of a very confusing and almost labarynthine set of side streets. Before Kaji had brought the car to a full stop in the parking lot, I was already tearing off my seatbelt and pushing the door open, and he fumbled around for a few seconds turning everything off and locking the doors to trot up behind me.

"Shinji, hold up," he said almost breathlessly as he finally caught up to me, and even with his long stride he struggled a bit to keep up with the brisk pace I maintained. "Just wait a second! You don't even know what the apartment number is."

"Then quit wasting time and tell me, please." I said sharply, not stopping and glancing at each door for some sign of one that belonged to Kaworu, but a little irritated that they all looked exactly the same.

"I will just, just wait." Kaji cut in and grabbed my arm, forcefully stopping me and gripping me to the point that I couldn't pull away. "Do you even know what you're going to do when you get there? I mean you've got to think this through for a second and--"

"I've done enough thinking!" I screamed and tore my arm away from him, staring at him with livid eyes and a steadily reddening face. "All this time I've just been thinking, thinking, thinking, and where has that gotten me? You're the one that told me its better not to think too much and just do what feels right!"

He paused for a long time, searching my features before opening his mouth to say something else but I cut him off.

"Look, I know you're just trying to help, but all the time you're wasting trying to get me to calm down and think, I could be using that to search every door in the whole complex if I have to, and find it much faster," I was shaking again, and tears were streaming down my face but my arms felt like they were made of concrete and my hands were frozen into fists. "I don't know what I'm going to do when I get there, but I can figure that out when the time comes, because thinking ahead won't help. If I think ahead all I can see is..."

I went silent because I felt like I would choke, but I can tell he got it. Maybe because he didn't know Kaworu like I did, he didn't understand fully what depths of sadness we could sink to and the types of things they would make us think about and do. Maybe because he hadn't seen the faded and timeworn scars on Kaworu's wrists and legs, or because he didn't know that I had thought about the same thing countless times before. Whatever it was that kept him from understanding, it was gone now, and he understood me.

"It's thirteen," he said quietly, smoothing his hands through his hair and starting off toward the building again. "The apartment number, I mean. The first floor looks like it's one through ten, so I'm guessing its on the second floor."

Silently thankful, I followed after him and we climbed the stairs together, both of our paces brisk and hurried even as we made our way down the narrow balcony of the second floor. After some walking, I noticed one of the doors was open and there was a dull orange light spilling out onto the concrete. I approached a bit more slowly at this sight, and my heart dropped when I realized that it was indeed number thirteen. In an instant, a million horrific possibilities flooded into my mind, none of them coherent or solid enough to grasp and make any sense of. I dragged myself hesitantly toward the door, swallowing hard before stepping inside, too preoccupied to bother with taking my shoes off or even announcing myself.

The apartment itself consisted of one fairly small room, very lightly furnished with nothing but a tall lamp overlooking a low, blanketed table in the middle of the floor that housed a laptop. There was also a cubicle of a bathroom, a little nook of a kitchen and what looked like a closet in the corner, the door open and light flooding out of that as well. I have to find him, he has to be here, he has to be alright, was all I could think as I scanned the room. There were very few places he could be if he weren't immediately visible to me in this small space, but my eyes hovered on the closet.

I heard a cough and a grunt, and the steady creak of wooden floorboards as someone shuffled out of it. The voice was far too gruff and weary to be Kaworu’s, and I wondered with peaking horror if I was in the wrong place. Before I could leave and double check, an old man emerged with his back facing to the room. He didn’t seem to notice me until he had turned off the light and closed the closet door, stopping in his tracks once he turned around to blink at me. Even in the dim light, I could see that he was olive-skinned and ripe with age, his hair a deep, dusty grey and pulled back neatly against his head. His eyes were narrow and heavy with bags, but there was a quiet warmth about him that kept me from being afraid.

“Oh, hello,” he said, sounding more pleasantly surprised than angry that we had walked into his apartment. “May I help you two with something?”

“I-I...um...,” I stammered, my voice trembling as I tried to explain myself. “I-I’m sorry, sir...I’m...looking for someone. There isn’t...I mean, um...would there happen to be a boy, living here too, by any chance?”

“Do you mean Kaworu?” he said and I was overcome with a veritable flood of relief. “Are you a friend of his?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m his...friend...sort of,” I said, walking up to him and wringing the sad little envelope to crinkled shreds in my nervous fingers. “Does he live here? Is he okay? Please, I...I really need to find him.”

“I suppose you haven’t heard, my boy,” he said, his tone a little more solemn as he shifted the pile of clothes he had been holding in his arms and approached me. “He had an accident. I was actually on my way to see him in the hospital.”

“The...hospital?” I said, gripping my chest hard as I felt a painful weight drop to the depths of my ribcage. On the one had, I was terrified that this “accident” was exactly what I had feared, and that I had been too late. On the other hand, if this man knew him, and was going to see him, that would mean he was still alive. There was still some hope, however slim it was.

There was a heavy silence between us. I was at a complete loss for words, and I felt like I should say something, but nothing about this man’s posture pressured me to do so. Indeed, he seemed to be watching and analyzing me, and somehow seemed to read and understand my emotions the way Kaworu used to so many times before. Though he said nothing, I knew I didn’t have to explain, and my look of fear and confusion turned to one of pleading.

"Sorry to intrude like this, sir, we didn't mean to--" Kaji started, but the man chuckled a little and held up his hand.

“Not at all. I'm just not used to Kaworu expecting visitors. He can be a bit of a shut-in sometimes," he said lightly, shifting the load in his arms. "If you'd like, you two could come with me."

"Are you sure? I mean, we wouldn't want to impose, and it might be awkward to--"

"Of course I'm sure, otherwise I wouldn't have offered," the man said with a smile, then placed a surprisingly warm and gentle hand on my shoulder “I think he would enjoy the company.”

I let him lead me out of the apartment, pausing as he stopped to turn off the light and slip on his shoes before stepping over the threshold and locking the door behind us.

The man offered to let me ride with him, and Kaji assented to it, ensuring me that he would follow behind in his car. I felt a little strange, still worried and anxious, but also curious as to who this man was to Kaworu and why he was being so nice.

The ride was calm and almost dead silent, nothing but the dull hum of wind outside and the occasional breath of other cars passing us. I curled up in the seat and turned to stare out of the window, focusing intently on the trails of streetlamps as we passed them, trying not to think anymore for the moment.

“He’s told me a little about you, you know” the man said suddenly, and though I didn’t make any moves that indicated I was listening, he continued. “I've never heard him speak so animatedly about anyone before. He has a way with people, Kaworu does. They seem to like him very easily, but I know he’s much harder to please than that.”

I stayed quiet, knowing I would cry again if I said anything in response.

“I would always tell him how important it was for him to find a friend, someone he cared about as much as they cared for him. I knew he found that by the way he talked about you.”

I curled up tighter and buried my face in my knees, biting my lip as I fought the urge to cry even harder.

“I would even go so far as to say he probably loves you, which is definitely saying a lot,” he chuckled and fished around in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “The way he looked when he left for Tokyo, and subsequently the way he looked when he came back...I don’t know what happened between the two of you, nor do I blame you for the result. I know you’re both young and with youth comes the tendency to be pretty dramatic.”

I stared at the dashboard and choked out a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, my boy,” he said, reaching to pat my shoulder before lighting his cigarette. “This isn’t the first time this has happened. But from the way you looked in the apartment just now, I would say you should go ahead and be honest with him and yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...I might be old, but I'm not blind yet. It’s clear that you care about him a lot, maybe even love him too,” he said, and I was amazed that he could tell just from looking at me for a few minutes. “But unlike him, you don’t know what to do with it. That poor boy had to grow up very quickly, so he has a bit of a better handle on what to do with intense feelings like that. I would venture to say that this is the first time you’ve had to deal with this, as would be the case with any typical kid. It’s not your fault, and the fact that you’re here is a good sign, I think.”

I only half understood what he meant, and it was along the same lines as what Kaji had tried to explain to me. I think he was trying to encourage me to do what I had intended on doing anyway, but for some reason I felt better about it with his support.

“Um...I’m sorry if this is rude to ask but...who are you? To Kaworu, I mean,” I said suddenly, feeling it would be awkward to continue this ride without even really knowing who I was speaking to. “He told me he lived alone, so...”

“Ah! Sorry, I never introduced myself,” he said with a light-hearted laugh, taking a pull of his cigarette. “Kozo Fuyutsuki. I’m...well, Kaworu calls me an uncle, but that's probably just because I've known him since he was a child. He does live alone, yes, I just went to his apartment to pick up some things for him. God forbid I let him sit in that hospital bed in one of those gowns for another day. I honestly don't know how they expect anyone to recover in those uncomfortable things.”

With the way he continued on, by the time we pulled up into the hospital parking lot, I was a little more calm. Fuyutsuki had kept me somewhat preoccupied with very casual conversation, and though the reason for our meeting wasn’t on the best terms, he didn’t let that make things awkward. I was quiet as usual, but he didn’t seem to mind, and I got the feeling that he just enjoyed the company. He reminded me a little of Kaworu, with the way he could speak so easily and calmly, and was able to keep a conversation going about almost anything.

We walked up to the hospital entrance and I looked around anxiously while he approached the desk and engaged with the nurse sitting there. Kaji entered a few minutes later and stood beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it until Fuyutsuki had finished talking and headed off to Kaworu's room.

“He’s been asleep for at least a day,” he said, turning to me as we stopped in front of the door. “The doctor’s aren’t sure if it’s his physical condition or if it's just psychosomatic, but I wanted to let you know just in case he doesn’t seem to respond to you.”

“Okay...” I said quietly, my throat knotting up so much that I didn’t think I would be able to say anything anyway. I was absolutely terrified of seeing him, but I knew there was no other choice and I had already come all of this way. I needed to see him, even if just to make sure he was okay.

I stepped inside and my eyes were slowly drawn to the solemn hospital bed sitting in the middle of the room. Kaworu was lying there, fast asleep; were it not for the thick and numerous bandages coating his arms, or the discomforting beep of the heart monitor in the corner, he might have looked peaceful. I walked up to the bed slowly, as if my feet were made of lead. I wanted to reach out for him, or crawl up next to him and wrap around him, bury my face in his chest and cry my eyes out for hours and hours, but I was petrified. I just stood there, staring down at him as my eyes watered and burned and my fingers went white from twisting my coat in them so hard the thread began to tear.

Fuyutsuki came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder, resting the clothes on the bedside table and moving to a chair. He beckoned for me to sit in the one next to him, and since I had no idea what else to do with myself, I obliged. Kaji just leaned against a nearby wall, his arms folded and his face twisted into a shallow and concerned frown at the sight of the room.

I can’t say how long I sat in that room just looking at Kaworu. A few times, Fuyutsuki had gotten up to use the bathroom or have a cigarette...he turned on the TV or called in the nurse for something to drink. Things happened around me, doctors and nurses came in and out of the room and said things to Fuyutsuki and I but it all sounded like dull and hazy mumbling. All I could see, and all I was aware of was Kaworu. The only time I moved was to pull my chair closer to his bed, and after that I stayed almost completely still.

At some point, Fuyutsuki came up to me and said he would be leaving soon, because he had to open the shop in the morning. He offered to bring us with him, but I refused and said I wanted to stay. Kaji opted to stay too, lightheartedly mumbling something about how Misato would kill him if he left me alone in a strange town, and Fuyutsuki left with a sad smile. He managed to convince the hospital staff to let us stay, and they left us alone for the most part for the rest of the night. Kaji sat down, but he looked incredibly tired, and within minutes he had fallen asleep.

Without anyone else conscious in the room, the silence was palpable. The heart monitor continued to beep endlessly, and occasionally I caught whispers of Kaworu’s breath, but other than that, all was still. It was suffocating, and becoming too much to bear, and before I knew it I had started talking to him aloud.

“I hope you’re okay...I mean, I know you’re probably not, but...,” I hesitated even now, but was able to speak a little easier than I normally would have if he had been awake. “I’m glad you’re alive, at least. I can understand why you would...do this. I mean, if you had treated me the way I treated you...given me all of that hope you gave me and then pretended like I didn’t exist, especially after opening up to you, I would have done the same. I can only blame myself for pushing you away..."

I glanced at the bandages running up the length of his arms, and a chill ran through me at the mental image of what was underneath them. "You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I only ended up hurting you. I’d never have the courage to say this if you were awake, but...I...love you, Kaworu. I've never loved anybody before, but...I love you. And I’m sorry.”

I leaned on the edge of the bed and stared at his chest, unable to look at his face even now. I rested my chin on the cold metal bar that encased him, and leaned forward to place my hand over his. He was still so warm, and I had forgotten how soft his skin was. I gently lifted his hand up and clutched it tightly, bringing it up to my cheek and nuzzling into that touch that I missed so much. I was overwhelmed by the weight of my own selfishness, and the guilt I felt at having been the cause of this. I buried my face in the sheets that surrounded him, gripping his hand more tightly than I meant to, so much so that I heard his knuckles crack and my own began to ache a little from the strain. I muttered "I'm sorry" into the cloth over and over, until my throat ached and my voice cracked. I exhausted myself hoping and wishing more than anything that he would wake up and be okay. Even if something crazy happened like he didn’t remember me, or he was a completely different person, that would be fine. As long as he was okay, that’s all I needed right now.

I thought I felt something move, but I didn’t register until I heard him speak softly, “Why can't you just let me die. I always wake up...and it always hurts more.”

I looked up quickly and stared at his face, seeing his eyes open narrowly and a weary smile on his face.

“I could almost swear it was real this time...,” he said gently and I sat up, leaning in close to his face and letting go of his hand. “My hand even hurts...I wonder how long it will take for him to disappear this time. It's almost torture to have it linger like this."

“Kaworu...no, no I’m here,” I said frantically, placing my hand on his cheek and staring straight into his eyes. “I-I promise, this is real! I'm real...”

“You can’t be...,” he said with a sad smile, putting his hand on mine. “You only ever say you love me in my dreams. It was nice at first, but...I'm tired. I can't take it anymore."

“No, no, I’m sorry,” I said, my eyes still streaming as I pressed my forehead against his. “I know I’ve never said it but I’ve wanted to a million times...since the first time I saw you I wanted to say it, but I didn’t. I love you....I love you, I love you, _I love you_!”

I squeezed my eyes shut and nuzzled into his face, pressing my lips against his. They were squeezed tight and I had no idea what I was doing, or even if this counted as a real kiss, it was the only thing I could think of at the moment. I would stay there as long as it took for him to know that I was telling the truth, and to convince him that this wasn’t a dream. He was apprehensive and I could tell that his eyes were wide and for the first time, he was struggling internally. This must have been how he felt all of those times I hesitated, when I was uncertain if what was happening was real and if I deserved it. This made the tears flow more freely from my eyes and I tried to silently communicate to him that I understood and I was sorry.

The beeping of the heart monitor grew more and more rapid, and eventually his hand softened against mine and he pressed in closer. I slid my fingers around the back of his head and pulled him toward me, leaning over him as he parted his lips and I did so in turn. I lingered there for a moment before pulling away, both of us sighing and my heartbeat almost in tandem with the rapid beeps from the machine.

“Shinji--”

“No, you don't have to say anything," I said tearfully, wiping my face when I pulled away. I hated myself so much right now and I knew there was nothing I could say to make everything alright again, but that didn't stop me from trying. "If anything I should have never stopped talking. I could apologize for a hundred years and it still wouldn't be enough."

"I thought I told you to stop apologizing so much," he said, laughing a little. I was so enveloped in guilt that I couldn't understand how he wasn't angry with me, how his gentleness ran so deep that he could even face me right now. "Just to hear you say that you love me and know that it's real, that's all I wanted. I shouldn't have forced things, I should have waited until you were ready."

"I've been ready for a long time, but I kept fighting it. I know now that's what the problem has been this whole time. I couldn't just...let myself be happy. I felt like there was a catch, you know? I was just waiting to see what it was."

"Well, I suppose the catch is that you're in love with someone who's broken." he said sadly, still smiling, and somehow that hurt more.

"You're not broken," I said plainly, bringing his hand up to my face again. "You're perfect. And I guess I'll just have to say that for a hundred years until you believe it."

"Oh hey, he's up! Crazy, how long has...," Kaji chimed in wearily, then trailed off when we turned to him and he started to gather what was happening. "Ah...did I...interrupt something?"

"Oh, hello." Kaworu said pleasantly, waving slowly at him and chuckling a little at how red I got when I remembered, too, that someone else was in the room. Kaji just laughed and tipped his head toward Kaworu, who smiled in turn. The air was suddenly a lot lighter and for the first time, everything felt real and good all at once. I could hardly believe it, and were it not for the feeling of Kaworu's hand in mine, I wouldn't have been able to.

* * *

 

It had been about a month since that day, and now I found myself sitting in the back of Fuyutsuki's car, my hand gripping Kaworu's embarrassingly tightly, my face red and aching with an excited smile.

"Honestly I don't know why they had to send you all the way to Azumino, you'd have done just fine at home." Fuyutsuki said in a playfully grumpy tone, a cigarette poking out from the corner of his mouth while we drove.

"Thanks for picking me up, anyway," he said gently, smoothing his thumb over mine as he spoke, in a way that made it difficult for me to concentrate on the conversation. "I didn't really have a say in where they sent me, but I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"It isn't too much trouble, I'm just at that age where I like to grumble," he replied. "I hear those places are like really sterile vacation homes anyway. And obviously they weren't feeding you right, I swear you've gotten even skinnier."

"It wasn't bad, just boring," Kaworu said lightly. "And kind of a waste of time. I lost count of how many times I told them I was fine."

"Well, that doesn't matter now. You're on your way home and this one over here--" Fuyutsuki tilted his head back pointedly at me "--has been beside himself all day. I'm pretty sure he cooked enough to feed the entire city."

"That was supposed to be a surprise!" I said, visibly flustered but used to this kind of treatment.

"You'll have no problem helping me eat it, I assume."

"I'll do what I can, only because it's my duty," Fuyutsuki said with a chuckle and I blushed even more, but knew that trying to be modest around these two was only going to make it worse. "I didn't mind having him stay with me, but the added perks of good food and good company always make that sort of thing worthwhile."

"Thank you for that, by the way," I piped up uncertainly, fully aware that this had to have been the fiftieth time I'd thanked him for his hospitality. "I know it's probably pretty weird having a stranger in your house, but I appreciate it."

"Not at all, it was nice not having to cook for awhile. I'm not very good at it anyway," Fuyutsuki said with a laugh. "And it's been awhile since I've had such a worthy shogi opponent. Anyway, here we are."

Upon arrival at Fuyutsuki's house, I bade the two of them to seat themselves at the table while I brought out the food. In truth it probably was a bit much, but I couldn't help myself. I couldn't decide what to cook, and I wanted to make sure it was to Kaworu's liking even though I knew he would have eaten anything. Of course they tried showering me with praise about it, and I learned to just quietly say thank you and appreciate the satisfied looks on their faces while they ate.

Fuyutsuki and I did most of the talking and it was very light-hearted. Kaworu was quiet and listened mostly, commenting that he preferred to do so because it had been awhile since he had heard a casual conversation. It was a warm and almost domestic scene, one that I hadn't experienced much before coming to Takayama. Because of all that had happened, I was nothing but endlessly relieved and completely content that Kaworu was back and things were okay.

After dinner and a little more talk, it was fairly late in the afternoon and the sun had begun to set. Kaworu mentioned that he wanted to spend some time at home, and invited me to come over. Some part of me was hoping he would, but I would have never asked, and I accepted with a little less hesitation than I would have before. I was trying to get into the habit of not making excuses and just taking the kindness people gave me, especially when it was in regards to something I wanted to do anyway. Progress was slow, but it was less difficult than I thought and much more rewarding. After a little pestering and an offhanded comment about expecting to see Kaworu in at work in a few days, Fuyutsuki let us go and we set off toward his apartment, which wasn't too long of a walk from the house.

The entire way there, Kaworu was still silent, but he looked completely at peace. I couldn't stop looking at him, and though he didn't look at me he still acknowledged me by grabbing my hand and pulling me a little closer to him as we walked. I wasn't sure what to say that hadn't already been said, and I figured he wanted a bit of silence right now, so I kept quiet until we reached his place.

"Huh, I knew he was watching over the place but I didn't expect him to rearrange it like this..." Kaworu said offhandedly after closing the door and entering.

"Um, actually that was me," I said a little shyly, nudging off my shoes and rubbing the back of my head, "Sorry, I came here a few times to dust and make sure everything was in order and I guess I got a little carried away. But I can put everything back if you want! I just thought it might be a little more comfortable...I mean not that it wasn't comfortable before bu--"

"Shinji, it's fine," he said gently and at that point I realized I was starting to ramble. Though his tone was quiet, it effectively shut me up and I gave an uneasy smile. Even though I had been here several times during my stay, mostly to dust and just to spend some time alone, surrounded by him in a way, I still wasn't used to it. "I think it looks nice, actually. And it smells really good in here...are those...?"

"R...roses," I said, my face growing red with embarrassment as I nodded over at the vase of flowers set on the windowsill. "T-they smelled good, when I found them at the store, and...I dunno, the air was getting a little stale in here, so I figured they'd...help that, a little..." I buried my face in my hands and groaned a little. In hindsight, that was probably overkill, and I guess I was trying to be...romantic. Or something.

"They're beautiful." he said, and I was suddenly aware of the fact that he was a lot closer to me than before. I could practically feel the heat coming off of him, and though I tensed reflexively when he wrapped his arms around me, I rested my head in his chest and tried to relax.

"I missed you very much." he said lowly, almost in a purr.

"I...missed you too."

"There were moments when I thought I would wake up and find that none of this had happened," he continued, nestling his head in my neck and nudging mine away from his chest to kiss me. "Or I would come back and things would be as they were. That nothing would have changed."

That familiar guilt that I hadn't felt in a long time returned shallowly and hung heavy in the depths of my chest, but it was almost instantly dissipated when Kaworu squeezed me more tightly.

"Listen...," I said hesitantly, pulling away just enough to look at him properly, my face burning immediately when his eyes met mine and lingered there unflinchingly. I faltered and glanced away for a moment, but promptly forced myself to look at him, no matter how difficult it was. "I...have a lot to make up for. And before you say anything,--"

He closed his mouth, which I saw twitch open in an effort to argue, but fall closed into a small smile when I said that.

"--I know I do. Even if just for myself. I feel like I haven't given you half as much as you've given me, so I'm going to fix that, okay! I'm...I don't know what all I'm going to do, but I'm going to fix it. So just...give me awhile and let me do that. I-in my own way, I guess."

He stood there silently for a moment, and his eyes were fixed on me in that expectant way that never failed to put a little bit of pressure on me, no matter what was happening. I felt pretty confident when I rehearsed that little declaration the night before, and it all went about the same as I expected, but I was sort of at a loss now. My already weak confidence was fading, and his silence, nor his indecipherable face, were making this any easier.

"...Can I speak now?" he asked after awhile, blinking innocently.

"..Y...Yeah. I mean you don't have to ask permission or anything...."

"I just wanted to say that you don't owe me anything, since you've already given me more than I could have asked for, but," he grinned again and surprised me with a swift kiss, one so quick and unexpected that I could hardly reciprocate. "I will gladly take anything more you choose to give me. As long as you let me do the same to you."

"Okay, I guess I can do that..." I said bashfully, but smiling because the thought alone made my heart want to leap out of my chest and dance across the floor.

"Now, there's something I've wanted to do with you for some time," he said lowly and drew away from me to walk over to his closet. "I got it some time ago, when I came home after our visit, and I tried to watch it but it didn't feel right without you. I'm glad we can have the chance to do this now."

When he re-emerged, he was holding a DVD case that looked oddly familiar, and when he handed it to me, I smiled softly. It was the movie we tried watching ages ago, the one I grew up with. Though the sight of the title instinctively made my chest tighten a bit, I was strangely unafraid. After all that had happened, I felt it was appropriate to finally see how it would all end, and even if it hurt, I knew Kaworu would be there when I needed him. It felt undeniably right, and I looked up at him again with a strangely confident smile.

"This is perfect. I'm glad I can finally see how it ends."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really wanna thank you all for sticking through this with me! i hope the ending was fitting, and its been really fun. I wanna do more with these two so hopefully I can in the future! love u all, tysm

**Author's Note:**

> I won't take credit for this idea, I was amazed and inspired by the story "The Suicide Pact" by Otaku67


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